A Serpent's Egg
by Lummy1507
Summary: Part I of the Trilogy "Loved Not Wisely, But Too Well". Draco and Hermione are Head Boy and Girl in their 7th Year. Each has their own lies and secrets, but how will this bring them together? And how long will this serpent's egg be allowed to live? DMXHG
1. The Inner Circle

**A/N: Hey everyone! Here's a Dramione I've been cooking up for a while. Now, all you really need to know is that it's slightly HBP compliant, but not completely. As will become obvious, Draco never received the mission, and Dumbledore is still alive. It begins in their 7th Year at Hogwarts, and continues on. **

**Special thanks to my beta, PlonkersOnDaLoose, for her help. She's amazing! =) And my best friend, Zehra, for analyzing every single word she reads.**

**Anyways, read and enjoy! And don't forget to REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Or Draco Malfoy. J K Rowling does.  
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**Chapter One- The Dark Lord  
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(Draco Malfoy)

The slight movement next to me tugged the silken sheet off of my face. The light glaring down on my closed eyelids was disconcertingly bright. My jaw was slick with sweat– wait, sweat? Impossible. Malfoys never sweat. It was time to find out where I was, and who was snoring away next to me, in a very unladylike manner, might I add.

I cracked my eyes open and was momentarily blinded by the brilliant sunlight streaming in through a slit in the curtains. This meant I wasn't in Malfoy Manor; the house-elves knew, after sixteen years of serving me, that I did not take a gap in the drapes very well in the morning.

I could not see the face of my companion, but judging from the long, black hair splayed over the pillow and the general amount of pink in the room, it could only be Pansy. I sighed, trying to remember how I kept managing to end up like this, and slid out of bed, careful not to wake her. I was not a morning person in general, and was certainly in no fit state to deal with a squealing, nagging, lustful teenage girl.

I glanced at the alarm clock– pink, again– on Pansy's bedside table. It showed half-past eight. Good; I had an hour before the meeting. Stretching out the kinks in my joints, I loped away towards the bathroom, which, surprisingly, was not another violent shade of pink. In fact, I found I was rather fond of it; all the walls were plastered with full-length mirrors, meaning that wherever I went, replicas of my face smirked right back at me– most definitely a pleasurable sight. Once done with brushing my teeth, I realized that a shower was in order. Parkinson's sweat had left my neck uncomfortably sticky. I stepped into the bathtub and pulled the curtain round me before adjusting the water to the correct temperature.

My eyes closed as the hot water began running; nothing felt better than the sensation of the scalding water pounding on my back. Hazy images from the previous night drifted across my mind: an 'End of the Vacation' Bash at the Parkinsons Lodge … plenty of booze … Pansy's misled and drunken attempts at seducing me. She may have been successful at achieving her goal, but only because I realized that I had no other entertainment for the night.

Turning around, I allowed the water to drum on my forehead and I thought I could feel each individual drops of water hitting its target before making its way down my face. After another half hour or so, I shut off the flow of water, wrapped a towel around my midriff and stepped out of the tub. Looking around, I realized that I'd left my wand in Pansy's room. Damn it. I opened the door noiselessly, but no use– she was already wide awake, but apparently not any less delusional than she had been the night before.

'Draco,' she purred, turning her baby-blue eyes on me and lazily throwing the pink cover off her body in an obvious attempt to seduce me. 'Come, join me again…'

'Don't be stupid,' I said, sparing a glance at the clock before reaching for my wand, which had been abandoned on her dressing table the night before. 'Have you forgotten about our meeting?' I watched in amusement as her eyes expanded in alarm. She leapt out bed and ran, not so gracefully, towards the bathroom.

'Wait for me,' she said, winking through a gap in the door.

'Not likely,' I answered tersely. 'I'm supposed to go with Father.'

'Oh yes, of course,' she said, before shutting the door with a soft click. 'Well, I'll see you later, then.'

I did not bother with replies, but proceeded directly to drying my hair with a wave of my wand. Once finished dressing, I took a fistful of Floo powder from Pansy's mantelpiece, threw it into the dying embers of the fire and, stepping in, shouted, 'Malfoy Manor'.

Within a few, dizzying seconds, I was coughing on the dark hearth in front of the fireplace in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor.

'Finally home, are you?' sneered a cold voice, remarkably like my own. Looking up, I saw my father sitting in a winged armchair, tapping his wand against the armrest– he was impatient. Wonderful.

As he stood up, his features were thrown into focus by the light filtering into the room through the coloured glass of the high, domed ceiling. If people thought our voices were similar, then our faces would startle them. Both of us stood at the intimidating height of 6'2", yet he always exerted an innate command over me that I'd never been able to overthrow fully. He, like me, was already clad in flowing black robes and a matching cloak. His hood was thrown back to reveal hair the same colour and texture as mine, except that while his grew past his shoulders and was tied back with a piece of dark velvet, mine was shorter and let loose over my forehead, a constant cause of displeasure for my father, just as was my apparent "womanizing".

'For a moment there, I thought you may be late,' he accused, his eyes narrowed.

'Of course not, Father,' I said, trying to keep the impatience from my voice. Despite his powerful tone, I had been growing more resistant to it over the years. 'I know that that would be unacceptable, especially from a Malfoy.'

He nodded, apparently pleased by what I had said. 'Are you ready?' he asked, scouring my face with his grey, emotionless eyes, as though searching for signs of weakness. As ready as I'll ever be, I thought, but refrained from saying so, nodding curtly instead. 'Come. Let us not keep the Dark Lord waiting.' My father placed a white Death Eater's mask to hide his face and threw on his hood; I followed suit. He held out his left arm, through which I loosely looped mine. Shaking back his sleeve, he touched a finger to the Dark Mark burned on to his skin and we were enclosed on all sides by a crushing darkness. It lasted only a few moments before being replaced by a soothing, greenish light.

The thick crown of leaves of the tall trees of the forest to which we had Apparated provided shelter from the glaring heat of the mid-morning sun.

'Ah… our final guests.' I had never expected the Dark Lord's voice to be quite so high-pitched; nevertheless, it made you want to start running in the opposite direction and never stop. Fighting the instinct, I turned to face him for the first time.

I had spent most of my life trying to imagine what He would be like…but nothing could have prepared me for what awaited me. The Dark Lord stood before a semi-circle of cloaked and hooded figures. He was approximately the same height as me, I noticed, as he walked up to us, but it was the way he moved, the way he looked at me, that told me immediately that I had no choice but to bow down before him– his very aura exuded such arrogance, such pride and stateliness and sheer superiority that I had encountered in no one ever before. Never again would I curse my father for his egotism, I thought, as I sank to my knees before him.

'Lucius, I see that you have finally arrived. And brought your son…' There was a distinct tone of ownership in his voice as he spoke, as if he knew that he had the power to end our lives with a swipe of his wand. 'Lucius, take your place,' he ordered, pointing to a gap in the semi-circle. My father obliged with an almost indecent haste, but as I made to follow, he blocked my path. 'Not so fast, young one,' he said silkily.

'Draco Malfoy…' He pulled my hood off, exposing my face for further examination. 'He looks like you, Lucius,' The Dark Lord chuckled, and I felt a shiver run down my spine– but just one.

'Thank you, my Lord,' came Father's reply.

'So, Dra-co…' He drew out the first syllable on my name, which fell irregularly on my ears. I could not help but look up and those red eyes bored into mine.

'You have been named Head Boy.' It was a statement, not a question, so I remained quiet. The silence in the forest was unsullied– not even a bird chirped; no rodents rustled through the undergrowth. 'You have been named Head Boy by that Muggle-adoring fool, Dumbledore. Do you know why?'

'I– it is because of my skills as a wizard and my academic achievement, I believe, my L-Lord,' I tried to remain calm as I answered, managing quite well.

He raised his eyebrows. 'Oh… is that all?

'I beg your pardon?… My Lord,' realizing I had sounded rather arrogant, I added the last part in an attempt to seem more subservient.

He chuckled, quiet and deadly. 'So, you claim it is merely because of your marks and magical ability? You aren't– like­– him?'

'My Lord, I am quite sure that my son–' Father began, but the Dark Lord raised a hand to silence him.

'Let your son answer, Lucius. Now tell me boy, why would that old fool pick you as Head Boy when you are in the same year as his Golden Boy, the Boy Who Lived, and, as they now call him… the Chosen One… Harry Potter?'

'Potter?' I spat the name. 'My Lord, even, as you say, a fool like Dumbledore knows that I am far more worthy of a position as prestigious as Head Boy than that empty-headed, Mudblood-loving Potter.'

This seemed to invoke curiosity. 'So… you are not, as I feared, a traitor to our kind? You are not in sympathy with Potter?'

I snorted in spite of the danger I knew it may potentially put me in. 'My Lord, Potter is a mediocre wizard to the last fibre, and lives on merely due to dumb luck and the protection of other, more capable, witches and wizards.'

'My, my…Lucius, it seems I was severely mistaken about your son. He seems… promising.' An automatic smirk spread across my face. 'You will be a valued Death Eater, my boy, I am certain, and a fine heir to your father. Take your place.' As I strode over to stand next to my father at the centre of the semi-circle, I could feel the gaze of all the others on my back. I felt as though I had just passed the most difficult examination of my life. I probably had– and with flying colours.

Presently, the Dark Lord turned to address everyone else. 'Well, today, we have among us the… shall I say? – budding Death Eaters. All of you shall be coming of age within the coming year, am I correct?' There was a noise of general assent before he continued. 'This means that, once you have completed your final year of education, all of you will attend the Initiation Ceremony which is held annually and I shall personally brand you. Each of you will receive the Dark Mark, and will officially join the ranks of the Death Eaters. If any of you… disagree, now would be your last chance to… express your concerns.'

I looked around at my companions, none of them recognisable under the black hoods shrouding their faces, but I knew who was here: Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and the twins Andrew and Ethan Selwyn, both of whom were in their last year at Durmstrang, but their father was a Death Eater who had been broken out of prison in our Fifth Year. As far as I knew, none of them were stupid enough to protest– they had the same upbringing as mine; in essence, we had had the same values instilled in us– that is to say, we lacked moral principles altogether.

It was the last figure, who had appeared without his father and of his own free will, who surprised me most– Zacharias Smith. I eyed him suspiciously, wondering what had caused him to switch over to this side; both his parents were working for the Ministry. I did not feel like I could trust him, but if he had proven to the Dark Lord that he could be trusted, then I was no one to question the decision.

Not even a muscle twitched in the semi-circle as the Dark Lord watched us in amusement for a minute. 'If you are sure, it is done. You may leave now.'

Slowly, in pairs of father and child, the members of the meeting began to Disapparate. Father grabbed my arm and, with one last bow, we turned on the spot.

We reappeared in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, where I immediately let go of my father's arm and made for the large oak double doors, but Father stopped me.

'Draco.'

I turned to see my father walking up to me. 'Yes, Father? Is there something you wanted?'

I could see my father's usually cold eyes bursting with as much pride as was in his voice as he spoke. 'Nothing, Draco. I had been concerned for you, but it seems foolish now. You have made me proud today, my son.' He smiled– something which I had not seen since I was ten-years-old and he watched Mother bend down to smell a rose in the garden. But it did not last long, and his usual cold formality returned as he bid me away. 'I'm sure you must have a great deal to prepare for your new school year. You may leave now.'

I turned on my heel and strode away, through the doors, the hallway and climbed up the marble staircase until I reached the third floor, which housed my quarters. Another set of oak doors opened into my room. The doors shut behind me and I walked straight across the white marble floor, ignoring the wooden four-poster with green hangings and the bottle-green sofas. I headed for the glass doors that led to the terrace and threw them wide open.

This was undoubtedly my favourite part of the Manor. The huge terrace itself had a mini garden, with potted flowering plants and a tiny lily pond set into the terracotta-tiled floor; but the best part was the view, overlooking the rose garden. Mother used to tend to it herself, growing roses of every shade and hue imaginable; the rose garden was easily her favourite part of the immense grounds of the property. There was even a wrought iron swing, set under the shade of a beech tree on which she used to sit for hours at a time, reading, listening to music or simply gazing out over the pond on whose bank the rose garden had been made.

I sighed, shaking my head, and re-entered my room, not wanting to allow my thoughts to continue down the lane of my Mother. But it was not easy, especially with a father who apparently knew nothing about my life. He evidently didn't know that I had nothing to "prepare" for my school year. The house-elves had already finished packing my belongings into my trunk; Leontes, my eagle owl, would be placed in his cage tomorrow morning after he returned from his night-time jaunt; my wand had already been polished the previous day; and I certainly did not have anything to study– the only time I found it necessary to study was before the final examinations, that only for revision. I was not like that Mudblood Granger who studied like a freak throughout the year. She practically lived in the library.

And that's when it hit me with the force of a rampaging hippogriff– who was the Head Girl?

Oh, surely not…

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**_"I make them good girls go bad, I know your type- you're daddy's little girl, just take a bite, let me shake up your world; 'Cause just one night couldn't be so wrong; I'm gonna make you lose control."_**

**Virtual brownies to anyone who can tell me the name of the song! Mmm, brownies, I love em!  
**

**Liked it? Yes? No? Well, review, and tell me what you think! =]**


	2. To Sleep

**A/N: Hello all! I'm so sorry, I'm not usually this late- I'm generally impeccable with timing. But I've been SO busy the last couple of weeks, it's insane! All sorts of last-minute assignments and assessments for our quarterly gradefiles, plus this Interschool Science Quiz Competition has deprived me of my SLEEP, let alone my computer time!**

**Anyways, here it is now. Enjoy, and review!**

**Disclaimer: The wonderful characters in HP belong the one, and the only, JKR. =)  
**

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_"Every night I rush to my bed _

_With hopes that maybe _

_I'll get a chance to see you when I close my eyes_

_ I'm going outta my head, lost in a fairytale_

_ Can you hold my hands and be my guide? _

_Clouds filled with stars cover your skies_

_ And I hope it rains- you're the perfect lullaby_

_ What kind of dream is this? _

_You can be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare_

_ Either way I don't wanna wake up from you."_

_-Sweet Dreams, Beyonce__._  


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**Chapter Two – To Sleep**

(Hermione Granger)

A candelabrum hung from the centre of the low ceiling, dimly lighting the room. It was oddly reminiscent of the Gryffindor Common Room, with its red carpeting, squishy armchairs and wood-panelled walls, except that it was smaller, completely circular and seemed empty. I was seated in an armchair directly in front of the large, cheerful fireplace as I often did, late into the night, while Harry and Ron finished their homework. There was even a book nestled in my lap. I glanced down at the title and grinned, opening the book. _Hogwarts: A History_– one of my favourites.

It was at this moment that I realized I was not alone. No– Harry was sitting in a chair beside me, watching me in a way that made me drop my gaze to the floor as I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. But Harry was neither as nervous, nor as befuddled, as I was; he placed a hand on my cheek and turned my head to face him.

'Hermione.' I looked into his eyes, drowning in the clear, emerald green. 'Hermione, I love you.'

My soul soared with joy as I replied, surprisingly, with no hesitation, 'I love you too, Harry.'

His grin widened. Harry leaned in towards me, and my eyes closed automatically, my lips hovering, waiting for the imminent contact…

'Hermione! Get up, Hermione! We're getting late, Mum's been yelling for ages. Apparently if we're late, it'll be a disgrace…'

My eyes flew open as Ginny shook me. I sat up grudgingly in my camp bed and muttered, 'And they'll just have to keep on waiting.'

'What?' Ginny asked distractedly. Realizing I was awake, she let go of my shoulders and resumed piling her possessions into the already overflowing trunk. 'Anyways… And she said it's even more so for you, since you're Head Girl. Oh, hurry up, would you? Before she comes in and realizes that I haven't even finished packing my trunk yet.'

I trudged off towards the bathroom and shut the door to muffle her non-stop monologue. Having brushed my teeth meticulously for the full two minutes prescribed by all Muggle dentists (my parents included), I turned on the warm water and let it beat a pattern on my skin. There was hardly anything better to energize you every morning than a long, warm shower… mine was cut short, however, when Ginny began yelling threats of breaking down the bathroom door, sounding uncannily like Mrs Weasley. Drying myself off, I dressed hurriedly and exited the bathroom before I became the latest victim of Ginny's renowned jinxing abilities.

Ginny almost looked ready to do so when I walked out of the bathroom, my hair dripping wet, but she was prevented from acting on the instinct by Mrs Weasley, who chose that moment to appear at the doorway, hands on hips, in a towering rage. 'Well, ladies? What are you waiting for?'

'Err… we're coming, Mum. Honest,' Ginny assured her, shooting a wary glance at me. I immediately grabbed my trunk and began lugging it in the direction of the door. Harry and Ron, panting heavily, appeared at Mrs Weasley's shoulder, carrying their luggage. Harry grinned at me, but it promptly became a sheepish grimace as Mrs Weasley turned and yelled at the two of them to keep moving. Finally, she decided that following them would be the only way to make her point and, thankfully, left us alone.

I sank down on my trunk and felt Ginny tug at a strand of my hair. 'Hermione, you do know you're a witch, right?'

I frowned at her. 'What's your point?'

'Well … Maybe, once in a while, you could use your wand to dry your hair. It would make it less frizzy.'

I rolled my eyes. Ginny, along with Lavender and Parvati, had suggested this several times over the past six years, but I'd never paid much attention to them or their offers to style my hair. Somehow, I'd become attached to my frizzy hair– And besides, it was no longer as electrocuted as it had once been. Over the past year or so, it had smoothed down and formed a pile of ringlets that hung to the middle of my back.

'Come on,' Ginny said, pulling at my wrist. 'We'd better get all of this downstairs before Mum comes up again. I don't know about you, but I value my life.'

I nodded absently and began dragging my trunk down the narrow, rickety staircase, most of my attention focused on the way the layers of Ginny's dark red hair fell perfectly around her shoulders. With her cute snub nose and the smattering of freckles around it, not to mention her outgoing, fiery personality, it was no wonder that Harry had fallen for her instead of plain old me. After all, I never used make-up or hair products or wore stylish dresses like other girls, even though Ginny always forced me to buy one when we went shopping together.

Not that Ginny knew Harry liked her. She was too busy with Seamus Finnigan.

'Finally!' Mrs Weasley seemed to have calmed down slightly– she was even smiling. 'Come on. No time for breakfast, I'm afraid, so grab a sandwich!' (Ron crammed one in his mouth and half a dozen in his pocket) 'Into the car, now!'

We carried our trunks across the front yard and into the boot of the green Ministry car waiting for us. Mrs Weasley wouldn't be accompanying us, so she began hugging each of us tightly. I smiled when she gave Harry an extra hug; his modest charm was, in some crazy way, irresistible.

'Take care, all of you!' she called, as we piled into the car. 'Have a safe trip! And be good!' As the car began to drive away I thought I saw a glimmer of water on her cheeks as she waved at us, but before I could confirm this, we had turned a corner and the Burrow was lost from sight.

The passengers of the car were silent during the first few minutes of the journey, the Auror seated in the front causing a slight amount of awkwardness. Soon, however, the silence was broken by a despaired mewling from the wicker basket on my lap. Just as I was about to let Crookshanks out, Ginny cooked up a fuss about how that would endanger Arnold, her purple Pygmy Puff, who was riding on her shoulder. More to change the topic than anything else, Ron spoke up, 'Wonder who the Head Boy is.'

When I'd received my Head Girl badge with the Hogwarts letter, it had been confirmed that Harry had not been made Head Boy. I had had a short conversation with him on the matter, during which the fact that he was upset and disappointed about Dumbledore not choosing him had become evident. Ever since, we had been carefully avoiding the topic. I rolled my eyes at Ginny. Trust Ron to try to be thoughtful, but end up being more tactless than ever.

'I don't know, Ron,' I said, in a pointedly final tone, but Harry seemed to detect the edge in my voice much better than Ron, who continued merrily, 'Maybe Ernie. He's pretty smart, for all the formality.'

Harry snorted and I glanced at him tentatively. He'd become quite surly. 'Ernie? What would he do in the face of danger? Bore Death Eaters with those long lectures?' Ginny and I laughed reluctantly, and I shot a glare at Ron, who had opened his mouth to respond. He shut it immediately.

The atmosphere in the car remained unpleasant throughout the rest of the ride to King's Cross and I was quite relieved to throw myself at the invisible barrier of Platform 9¾. The platform was, as usual, teeming with people; figures could be seen leaning in through the windows, voices heard, as parents bid farewell to their children, reminding them to write regularly, pay attention in class, not get into trouble... I smiled at the familiarity of the scene and remembered with a pang that my parents had not come to see me off before the beginning of the term since my First Year. And here I was, about to start my Seventh Year, and my parents were thousands of miles away.

No, I said to myself. Not now. I waved at Harry and Ginny and headed off towards the Prefect Carriage with Ron, my mind now purposefully focussed on who I would be partnered with for the rest of the Year.

***

'…I think it's safe to say that I have bored you long enough with an old man's waffle. So off to bed! Oh, and the new Head Boy and Girl, please come and meet me. Goodnight!'

I glared at the Headmaster as he finished his speech and turned to Professor McGonagall. 'I cannot believe he's doing this to me. I thought Dumbledore's supposed to be the greatest wizard who ever lived?' I demanded of no one in general.

'He is,' Ginny said from behind me as she passed by. 'He's bloody brilliant!' Her expression was carefully controlled and it looked like she was about to laugh–

'What is so funny, Ginny?' I yelled, my voice rising an octave.

'Nothing, nothing,' she said, biting down on her lip, and her laughter. 'Just that your expression is priceless.'

I glared at her and she stuck her tongue out before walking away.

I returned my gaze to the two boys who sat opposite me. Their expressions showed an odd combination of hilarity, concern and disgust– hilarity because of what I'll have to deal with, concern for my sanity and disgust at Dumbledore's choice.

'It'll be okay, Mione,' Harry tried to assure me, patting me on the shoulder, but he couldn't quite pull it off while he glared across the Hall at Malfoy, who was leaning up against the wall near the entrance with Dumbledore.

'Holy crow, they're waiting for me!' I muttered to myself as I jumped to my feet. 'Ron, take the First Years up to the Tower! The password's Butterbeer!' I yelled over my shoulder, practically sprinting past a group of frightened-looking Gryffindor First Years.

'Kind of you to join us, Granger. Finally,' Malfoy sneered as I skidded to a halt near the entrance, clutching a stitch at my side. I ignored him and addressed Dumbledore.

'Sorry, Professor.'

'It is quite alright, Miss Granger,' Dumbledore looked at me through his half-moon spectacles and I understood what Harry meant when he said that he felt like he was being X-rayed. 'Now, come along. I thought I should show the two of you your new quarters.'

I smiled at the Headmaster, shot a sideways glance at Malfoy, who merely nodded, looking disinterested.

'Here we are,' Dumbledore said cheerfully, after about seven minutes, stopping in front of a portrait of four people: two men and two women sitting on individual winged armchairs, similar to the ones in Dumbledore's office.

'Well, you two, meet– '

'The founders,' Malfoy and I whispered together.

'Welcome, young ones!' Helga Hufflepuff said cheerily, a plump woman, clad in black and yellow.

'We hope you two will get on well,' Rowena Ravenclaw added serenely, in blue and bronze. She had a slender build and was a woman of a great and austere beauty. On her head was perched a delicate-looking silver crown.

'Not likely,' sneered Salazar Slytherin, whose heavily embroidered emerald and silver robes draped majestically where he sat. His refined features were twisted into an arrogant smirk as he spoke.

'Nonsense, Slytherin,' ejaculated the well-built, good-looking Godric Gryffindor, his blue eyes twinkling jovially, clad in robes of red and gold. He laid aside the ruby-hilted sword he held and leaned out to scowl at the handsome man in green. 'There's no reason to prejudice them!'

'Are you blind, you Muggle-loving fool?' Slytherin asked, eyeing Malfoy. 'Do you really think one of my House would ever accept one of yours with _open arms_?'

Dumbledore smiled fondly at the portrait. 'We go through this every year. It's becoming quite the ritual, gentlemen, wouldn't you say?'

The women tittered; Hufflepuff restrained Gryffindor, who looked livid, while Slytherin turned to address Dumbledore, looking supremely unconcerned. 'The password, Albus?'

'Yes, yes, the password,' Dumbledore said, turning to face us. 'So, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy. Have either you any thoughts on what might make a good password? Both of you must agree on it, mind.'

'That might take a while,' I said, eyeing Malfoy with extreme distaste. Dumbledore continued to smile and for a fleeting moment, I felt like pulling out his beard. 'Library?' I suggested vaguely.

Malfoy snorted. 'Of course _that_ would be the first thing you thought of.'

'Well, d'you have a better suggestion, then?' I snapped.

'Why, yes, I do, actually.' He smirked infuriatingly before he continued. 'Think about it, Granger, the one thing we have in common, as little as either of us would like to admit it. It's what's brought us here.'

I frowned, trying to come up with it before he did, but for once, my mind came up blank. I didn't like to think I had anything in common with Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy shook his head pityingly, and tapped his temple. 'Intelligence, Granger, intelligence.'

'Well done, Mr Malfoy,' exclaimed Dumbledore, and my frown deepened. Despite much evidence to the contrary, the ferret was smart. Or so it seemed. The Headmaster turned to the portrait, where the combined efforts of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had finally soothed Gryffindor down. 'Professors, the new password is intelligence.' The portrait swung forwards, a large hole appearing behind it. We climbed through easily and entered the Heads' Common Room, which was, in one word, breathtaking.

The room was semi-circular. The portrait hole was placed in the centre of its only wall, which was wood-panelled. On one side of the portrait hole was a door. On the other side was a large fireplace, in which a fire was already crackling merrily. Grouped around a low table in front of the fireplace were what looked like my favourite squishy armchairs from the Gryffindor common room. The carpeting was dark green. The rest of the room was made of glass– huge windows were spread out in a large arch, from floor to ceiling, so that, during the day, we would have a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains and the Black Lake.

'It's… it's beautiful, Professor!' I exclaimed. Malfoy, I found, was not particularly impressed. He nodded along with me, and I supposed this was an appropriate gesture of appreciation from him, considering that Malfoy Manor was listed as one of the most grand and glamorous properties in all of Britain, according to _Hampton's Guide to Famous Magical Dwellings_.

'Come, let me show you to your personal suites.' We followed Dumbledore through the door, which lead into a narrow corridor. There was a door on either side and one dead ahead. The one to the right had a large red and gold Gryffindor banner hanging from it, and the words HEAD GIRL written in shining gold letters across the top. The one to the left had a green and silver Slytherin banner and HEAD BOY written in silver.

'Those are your rooms,' Dumbledore announced, a tad unnecessarily. 'And the room straight ahead is the bathroom. I'm sure you'll have no trouble with it, so let us head back to the Common Room, so I can address you properly.

'Now, I'm aware of the… history between the two of you,' Dumbledore began, and I thought, finally, I get to know what possessed him to give the arrogant prat even more authority. 'Well, you two were selected, as Mr Malfoy so wisely said, due to your great intelligence, your sense of responsibility towards this school and your immense magical abilities. Now, despite whatever has passed in your past, I have full faith that, as mature adults, the two of you will put it behind you and work together. The Head Boy and Girl are a symbol of the school– remember, you are role models, and should behave as such, which means no quarrelling, and certainly no duelling! At least, not in public.' His eyes twinkled and I felt myself grinning like a lunatic at this loophole Dumbledore had most generously left.

Dumbledore continued, serious once more. 'Any misbehaviour from either of you, and I shall have to replace you. It would hurt me to do so, because I know I have picked the best candidates for the job this year, so make sure I do not find it necessary to resort to such an extreme measure.'

'Of course, Professor,' I said at the same time Malfoy said, 'Yes, sir.' We glanced warily at one another, sizing each other up.

'Now,' said Dumbledore cheerily, heading towards the portrait hole. 'I'll leave you two to catch up, shall I? Goodnight!' The portrait hole closed behind him.

Malfoy loped across the room with the fatal grace of some great cat, a mountain lion, or maybe a panther, and sank comfortably into one of the armchairs, leaving me standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

'Err, I'm going to bed,' I said tentatively.

'No need to announce it, Mudblood,' drawled Malfoy, leaning back regally in his chair, his eyes closed. 'Do whatever the hell you like, just don't bother me.'

I turned away, striding off to my room. Shutting the door behind me, I leant back on it.

'This is going to be a long year.'

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**Okay, so I'm a slow-paced writer. I promise there's action. And drama. And an actual plot. I have it all sketched out. This was just a necessity. So look out for the next chapter-- which I will upload, hopefully, within a fortnight!**

**Thanks again to my beta, PlonkerOnDaLoose, and my ever-devoted best friend, Zehra. Love you guys! =) I'll love you- YES, you- if you just leave me a review. XD  
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	3. Perchance to Dream

**A/N: OMG, I'm very, truly sorry. This is so not like me! It's just that I was out of town for a week, and then I had exams... =/ Not to mention the fact that my beta seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth...**

**I've had this chapter ready for a while, so I'm posting this, sans beta-ing. Read and enjoy!  
**

**Update: Draco and Hermione have just settled into the Heads' dorm on their first day.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I wish I did, though. -_-  
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_"And there he goes, so perfectly; The kind of flawless I wish I could be; She'd better hold him tight, give him all her love; Look in those beautiful eyes and know she's lucky."_

**Chapter Three- Perchance to Dream**

(Hermione Granger)

I was by the edge of the lake, underneath a beech tree, watching the sun sinking behind the mountains in the distance, when I heard something moving behind me. Turning swiftly, I saw my parents walking towards me; they came to an abrupt halt a few yards from where I stood rooted to the spot.

I couldn't believe they were here…but how? This was not right… not safe. They had been so far away- how had they returned here, to where I was, to my school? I should have realized then that it was too good to be true.

Instead of asking any of the questions I should have, the words that spilled out of my mouth were 'Mum? Dad?' - as if I required confirmation of their presence. They just stood there, nodding and smiling widely at me. I thought I could see a tear streaking down my mother's beautiful face, but as I stretched out my hand to wipe it off, I found that I couldn't reach. They were standing infuriatingly just beyond my reach, but as I stepped forward towards them, they disappeared in a puff of smoke and a loud, echoing scream pierced the surrounding silence and there was someone in the distance calling my name, panicking, it seemed… I had to reach them… Where did they go… Find them…The voice…

'Granger! Get up, dammit!' My eyes flew open as cold water splashed against my face. Standing above me, his wand outstretched and wearing a look of greatest self-righteousness, was Draco Malfoy.

'What the hell was that for?' I screeched, sitting up in rage. 'And what d'you think you're doing in my room?' I narrowed my eyes at Malfoy as I began to shiver.

'Please, Granger,' he said, rolling his eyes and putting his wand away. 'Don't get ahead of yourself. I have absolutely no desire to be standing in your room, or in your presence.'

'Well, then, feel free to leave,' I muttered, looking around distractedly for my wand.

Malfoy shrugged. 'It seems that help is not appreciated by Mudbloods. I'll refrain from doing so in the future.'

I'd succumbed to him calling me Mudblood- after all, I was what I was. Sometimes, if insults were repeated too many times, they lost their desired effect. 'Help? How is dumping icy water on my head early in the morning _helpful_, pray tell?'

'Well, you were screaming you're damned lungs out. A few more seconds of that, and you'd probably burst one of them.'

Oh no- I'd been screaming out loud? 'And why would you care about me bursting my lungs?'

Malfoy smirked. 'True. I don't care in the least. I don't stop you when you scream at night. In fact, I was thinking of leaving you as you were and casting a Silencing charm on your door. It would be most welcomed- Dumbledore would have to pick a new Head Girl, and I would no longer be stuck with you. However, there was also the small matter of Potty and Weasel banging on the portrait and yelling for you since about ten-thirty in the morning, unable to enter. It was beginning to get most irksome, so I decided I'd put you out of you're misery so that I could finally return to sleep.'

My head spiralled. 'Ten thirty? What d'you mean? What- what time is it now?' This was ridiculous- my teeth were chattering. Plucking my wand from my bedside table, I waved it, and my clothes became as warm and dry as though they'd been lying in front of a blazing fire.

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow. 'It's twelve. Now if you will excuse me, I have better things to do than to stand here and watch you figure out what to do with your miserable life.'

I paid no attention as he exited my room, slamming the door behind him- he always made it seem like the world centred on him. Hurrying to the Common Room, I threw open the portrait hole and Harry and Ron practically tumbled in. As they straightened up and looked me up and down, their looks of anxiety and anger turned to amusement and fatigue.

'Hermione, where've you been?' Harry asked, just as Ron said, sniggering, 'Hermione, what're you wearing?'

'I'm so sorry, guys, I slept in! I didn't realize how late it was! It's just-' I pushed my hair out of my face as I looked up at them, Ron biting down on his lip in an effort to refrain from laughing, and Harry watching me worriedly. 'I've been so exhausted lately, I've been having bad dreams and I haven't slept well, so-'

'If you want, we won't go today,' Harry said gently, but Ron turned to him immediately, his usual immature and inconsiderate self.

'What? No! We've been looking forward to this for so long! We have to go!'

Harry looked at him reproachfully, but I got there first. 'No, it's okay, I'll come, I want to get out as well. Hogsmeade is perfect. Just give me two minutes.'

Harry nodded and Ron, making an impatient noise, sank into one of the armchairs, commenting on how unfair it was that the Head Boy and Girl lived in extra luxury. Smiling to myself, I went back to my room to dress.

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The day was perfect for a Hogsmeade trip. It was mid-September, and the autumn sunlight was tempered by the cool breezes fluttering through the village from the north. We made a stop at Scrivenshaft's, because I needed a new quill, but since it was almost time for lunch, we decided to head to The Three Broomsticks, which was, as usual, packed, mostly with Hogwarts students enjoying their first day out after two weeks of non-stop classes. Ginny waved at us from across the room as Harry and I sat down in a corner. Ron had gone to the bar to order for us.

I saw Harry's face fall as he saw her hand linked with Seamus', who sat across from her at their small table and, for strange some reason, I decided that I had to make use of this perfect opportunity to ask him about his feelings.

'Harry,' I said, but he continued to stare at Ginny. 'Harry,' I called a little louder, waving my hand in front of his face and he broke out of his trance, starting. 'What're you watching there, Harry?' I asked.

'What? Oh sorry, Hermione, I was thinking about…' he glanced around, as if trying to find something to say, but I shook my head exasperatedly.

'Oh, don't bother. I know what you were thinking about. But why watch, Harry? Doesn't that just make things worse? Why cause yourself pain?' Funny, I thought to myself- who'm I to say that? I'm hurting myself by even bringing this up!

Harry blushed slightly, and resigned to the fact that I knew how he felt. 'Funny, I thought you'd have realized earlier,' he teased.

'Oh please, Harry, I've known for ages. I just never thought to talk to you about it.'

He looked at me warily. 'That means you're going to talk to me about it now?'

I smiled. I knew I had to be gentle. 'Only if you want to.'

He inspected his gloved hands, as if battling with himself about what he should say. A few minutes passed and I watched him intently as his eyes roved in and out of focus as he thought. Finally, he drew a deep breath and, his gaze still fixed on his twiddling thumbs, said, 'I love her, Hermione.'

The statement hit me with a dizzying force that probably could have knocked me off my chair if I wasn't gripping tightly to the edge of the table. I knew that this would hurt me beyond comprehension, because the last thing I needed to know was how much he actually did care for her, but I realized that, first and foremost, I was his best friend- well, one of them. The other, who was currently flirting with the curvaceous barmaid, Madam Rosmerta, was out of the question for such discussions, not only because Ginny was his sister, but also he did not have the emotional depth or maturity to be able to offer any helpful advice.

Although, I thought to myself, what advice am I supposed to give him now? She's been with Seamus for almost two years now. If I told him not to give up, I might get his hopes up and lose any chances _I _had; but then again, if I told him to give up on her, maybe more out of my own selfishness than out of true belief, then I'd snatch away the chance he had with the one _he_ loved. I couldn't do that to him or _Ginny_- she was one of my best friends as well. I could not bring my own self-seeking desires into something that could have a beautiful ending that they both deserved.

But now… what did I tell him? Harry was watching me expectantly, anticipating my usual lectures about evidence and logic and our plan of action- because that was what I always did. I had always been the "brains" of the "Golden Trio", as the Daily Prophet had begun to call us. I was always the one who figured things out, weighing the pros and cons, while Harry led us bravely into the midst of the fight.

And this is quite similar, too, I thought… after all, love and war, they aren't all that different.

'I know, Harry,' I said, not knowing what to follow up with. 'I know you do, which is why I guess you should wait, but…' I hesitated.

'What is it?' Harry asked.

I shook my head, and nodded towards the bar, to which Harry had his back. He turned to see Ron, jovially helping Madam Rosmerta carry our food, was heading in our direction. He faced me again. 'We'll talk about this later,' he whispered. I nodded and we plastered large grins on our faces as Ron sat down, setting a tray down our table.

After lunch, we decided to drop by at Honeydukes before heading back to the castle, our pockets full of Liquorice Wands, Sugar Quills and Deluxe Sherbet Lemon Packets.

I trudged up to the Heads' Tower alone; the boys had been disappointed when I'd abandoned them, but I'd spun them a tale about how tired I was and they'd let me go, after pitying me a great deal and advising me to take a dose of Pepper-Up Potion from Madam Pomfrey. As I ascended the marble staircase, I heard them cheerfully decide to go for a fly.

I hadn't lied, after all; the growing shadows beneath my eyes emphasized that. But I myself knew that my exhaustion was far more mental and emotional than it was physical, and no amount of rest or sleep was likely to help. It wasn't the Head Girl duties- I'd been used to patrolling the corridors since Fifth Year. And the studies weren't too difficult either. It was these repeated nightmares that I had about my parents that really took it out of me- well, they weren't really nightmares: anytime that I saw my parents was a dream come true, because I didn't know when I'd see them next… And then there was also the Ministry's decision pending…

Don't do this to yourself, Hermione, I thought, as I climbed through the portrait hole, wiping a single tear off my cheek. What use was worrying? What was done was done, and now I could only wait for the consequences.

Veering straight to the left to head off to my room, I didn't notice him until the Head Boy called out to me.

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**Thanks again to Z, my amazing soul twin. XD  
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	4. A Confrontation or Two

**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for all the encouragement! XD Here's the new chapter, I hope you enjoy! I'm still looking for a beta as well!**

**Thanks again to Z for her help.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of J K Rowling's characters.  
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_"And you always think, always speak cryptically; _

_I should know that you're no good for me; _

_'Cause you're hot and you're cold; _

_You're yes and you're no  
You're in and you're out; _

_You're up and you're down; _

_You're wrong when it's right; _

_You're black and it's white."_

-"Hot N Cold", Katy Perry

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**Chapter Four- A Confrontation or Two**

(Draco Malfoy) Hot N Cold

The comfortable chair, the familiar music in the background, the light pouring in from the huge windows behind me… it almost gave me the illusion of home as I sat there, the letter still tightly scrunched in my fist. But there was one particular aspect of home that I couldn't attain from my Common Room- the luxury of seeing my mother whenever I wanted.

I know it seems ridiculous that, as an adult, I still felt the need to be near my mother, but it was more for her benefit than mine. And after this less-than-satisfactory letter from Father, which I lobbed carelessly on to the table, I could tell that she needed me now more than ever before.

I heard a sniff behind me. Perfect. Something to take my mind off my worries.

'Granger, mail,' I announced curtly, turning in my seat to watch her. She obviously had not sensed my presence and started at the sound of my voice. She turned to me, and I held up the official-looking envelope. She looked at it, but then something seemed to register and her focus turned to the mini-jukebox placed on the table in front of me. Her eyes expanded to the size of saucepans in astonishment and I smirked. So she knew the classics, did she? That was a surprise- a pleasant one, I must admit.

'Mozart,' she muttered, almost to herself, and turned her huge eyes on me questioningly.

'Sonata No. 17, yes,' I drawled.

'But,' she frowned in evident confusion. 'He was a Muggle. How come-'

'-I'm listening to Muggle music?' I provided. 'Well, I believe that there shouldn't be any boundaries in music. Music is music- no magical, no Muggle.'

She grinned suddenly, as though she were a child who'd sneaked a cookie from the kitchen. Although, I say this purely on imagination- I'd never had to sneak _anything_; the house-elves gave me whatever I demanded, with bows and curtseys, and without delay.

'You only say that because it's the one thing Muggles do better than wizards.'

To my great shock, she sank into the chair next to mine and closed her eyes, apparently enjoying the music. The past fortnight had passed with minimal contact. We had had to deal with each other during our patrol sessions, but when one spotted the other in the Common Room, we followed the unspoken rule of leaving immediately. I silently slipped her letter into my pocket.

'Oh really?' I asked. I wasn't even sure why I was having this conversation with her, but, somehow, it didn't seem out of place. 'And what makes you say that?'

'Oh, please, Malfoy.' She opened her eyes, and for the first time, I saw laughter in them as she turned to me. 'Have you ever heard any of the music wizards write?'

I grimaced as I remembered the few bars of the song I'd heard on the Wizarding Wireless that day- what was it? "A cauldron full of hot strong love" –yes, that was it. The Mudblood seemed to catch the look on my face, which could only have been disgusted at the memory, because she was sniggering.

'See what I mean? Music written by Muggles is so much more…beautiful.' Her eyes drifted out of focus again as she said the last word. After a pause- 'Did you know what inspired Mozart to write this song?'

I was surprised by the depth of her knowledge- wait, no, I shouldn't be; this _was_ Hermione Granger we were talking about. She treated life like a homework assignment. I bit back the nasty retort that my mind automatically provided- it would be easier to live through the year if we at least tried to be civil to one another. 'No.'

'He had a pet bird which he always kept with his piano. His starling- it was his muse. Some sources even say this was the song the bird used to sing.'

'Oh.'

'This was my mother's favourite. She always used to tell me, when I was a child, that music was like magic. She said that music could cure anything. Just like magic.'

A tear carved its way down her cheek, but she didn't seem to notice. It felt like I was invading on something private, but I couldn't rip my gaze away, as the teardrop finally dripped off her chin and disappeared into her wild hair. She opened her eyes with a sniff; I looked away as soon as the large brown ones met mine. 'So, where's my letter?'

The letter. I pulled it out of my pocket, but held it away from her. Her eyes widened as she noticed the emblem on the envelope, the very thing that had piqued my curiosity.

'Tell me, Granger,' I said, twirling the envelope deftly between my fingers. 'Why is the Ministry of Magic writing to you?'

The atmosphere changed from dreamy to overwrought within seconds. So much for civility, I thought. But maybe infuriating her was too much entertainment for me to willingly forgo.

'Maybe if you gave me the letter, I might be able to tell you.'

'Oh, I don't think so, Granger. You see, I'm pretty sure that as soon as I hand this over, you're going to flee to your room and lock yourself up, casting all sorts of jinxes at the door so that no one can enter without turning into jelly.'

'Or maybe a ferret. But oh, wait, there's already one in the room.' She grinned pointedly at me, but this time, it didn't reach her eyes.

I raised an eyebrow. 'Be that as it may, Mudblood, but it seems I've underestimated you. If you can get into trouble with the Ministry, then I'm very interested to know what else you're hiding under that-' I tipped the shopping bag perched on her lap to allow the piles of Honeydukes merchandise to roll on to the floor, and drew out the last two words… '_-innocent façade_.'

She tried to seem nonchalant as she spoke, but the edge of anxiety was detectable. 'What makes you think I'm hiding something, Malfoy? It could be a letter awarding me a scholarship, or an internship, or-'

'Please, Granger,' I sneered, cutting across her. 'The Ministry only ever corresponds with a student directly if there are matters of personal discipline involved. In all other cases, the letters are passed through to either the Head of House or Headmaster.' She raised her eyebrows. 'I grew up in a magical household, Granger, so, unlike you, I don't have to bury myself in books to know simple things like that.'

I could tell from the way her eyes darted between my face and the length of my right arm that she was judging whether she would be able to make a grab for it. She seemed to decide against it- a wise decision. I was also surprised that she had not yet pulled out her wand; maybe Granger really _didn't _have the firepower she once did...

'Alright, Malfoy,' she said, huffing a deep sigh, her eyes downcast. Wow, I thought- that was much simpler than I thought it would be. 'I'll tell you what the letter says.'

I smirked. 'I thought you'd see it my way.'

But then she looked up at me, and I saw a glimmer of defiance in her eyes as she spoke. 'But only if you tell me what yours says.' She pointed to the crumpled ball of parchment which I had abandoned on the table.

She had made the mistake of pointing it out to me. A sound close to a snarl escaped me as she leapt towards the table, but my Seeker reflexes were too quick for her. I felt the letter crush once more between my fingers as the mini-jukebox was sent flying. It crashed against the portrait hole's wooden cover and lay cracked on the ground.

'Never.' My voice was low, but even a dunderhead like Weasley would have been able to detect the threat. Granger was no fool; she seemed taken aback and almost frightened for a moment.

I could feel the blood pounding in my head, not from anger, but from fear of Granger finding out about my mother's condition. She could not know- it was my one weakness. And one did not tell his enemies his weakness. Controlling my breathing, I held out the letter to Granger. 'Consider yourself lucky.'

I looked up at her as she snatched the envelope from my grip. She looked relieved but as she darted away towards her room, I called out to her again.

'Oh, and Granger?'

She turned back, dread etched into the lines of her face.

'This isn't over yet.'

Surprisingly, she smiled- cockily, but genuine nonetheless. 'Oh, I know,' and hurried away to her room, slamming the door behind her.

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(Hermione Granger)

'…Can you believe that? I mean, he's leaving! Just like that! I can't believe he wasn't able to convince his parents! I mean, there's only a year of school left for him, but no! They want to pull him out after New Years'!'

I was startled that she had stopped speaking, and hurried to set my expression to seem like I was suitably involved in the conversation… but the problem was that I didn't have the faintest idea what Ginny was talking about.

'Mm-hmm,' I mumbled, my eyes still boring into the envelope sitting on my bedside table. It seemed…frightfully exposed, the black and gold Ministry of Magic crest shouting out to anyone who looked in that direction. I had hurriedly stashed it there ten minutes previously, when Ginny had Fire-called to my room, requesting to let her and Luna come over. I had not been able to say no, because she seemed upset about something, but ever since she had come, I had not been obliged to say much except "Mm-hmm" and "I agree". And as for Luna… well, she sat staring into the fire, as dreamy as ever, nodding occasionally, whether to what Ginny was saying, or to something in her own head, I didn't know.

I had been afraid, at first, to venture back into the Common Room and risk meeting Malfoy again, but I hadn't had a choice. Thankfully, the Common Room had been empty when I went to let Ginny and Luna in, and, after Summoning the Honeydukes chocolates to me, led them straight to my room. But Malfoy wouldn't have the courage to say anything in front of others, I mused; the way he'd reacted to my bargaining had been frightening, though. I had thought of it as merely banter, but it seemed there was more to it…

I cursed myself silently for not snatching the letter from him the first time he'd held it out… instead, I'd been distracted by the music… my parents… but he'd come so painfully close to finding out… he hadn't been able to open my letter, I knew, because it was jinxed by the Ministry for confidentiality. But now that he knew something was up, knowing Malfoy, he wouldn't let go so easily…

Ginny had stopped speaking and was now looking at me expectantly. Lost, I said, 'Umm…I know…' but I knew right away that I'd said something wrong. Ginny raised an eyebrow.

'What d'you know, Hermione? I just asked you how you are.'

Stumped, I didn't know what to say, but Luna filled in for me. 'She knows that Harry likes you.'

Ginny seemed to shrink back at the words. 'What?'

'Oh, please, Ginny, don't act stupid,' I snapped. 'As if you don't know.'

She frowned at me in confusion. 'I didn't know anything… he… what?'

Luna nodded sagely, her wide eyes fixed on me. 'Yes, he likes you a lot. And that makes Hermione sad.'

I widened my eyes at Luna, trying to signal her to keep mum. But for all the other things Luna seemed to pick up on, whether factual or nonexistent, she did not to seem to understand what I meant. Besides, the damage was done.

'Mione?' Ginny's voice was soft. 'Why… why would that make you sad?'

'It doesn't,' I whispered, my eyes downcast, trying to control my emotions, most of which, for some reason, was anger, but Luna shook her head. I hated it when Luna was on Sneakoscope-mode- she could detect a lie in seconds, God only knows how.

'Don't lie to me, Hermione.' Ginny's voice was firmer.

'I'm not lying.' I tried to keep my voice from shaking, getting to my feet and turning away from them, picking up the envelope from my table.

'Mione, don't. Just…' Ginny's tone was fierce as she grabbed my arm and forced me to face her. 'Look at me. Don't _lie_. You know I hate that.'

'So what the hell am I supposed to say to you?' I suddenly found myself shouting. I don't know whether the frustration stemmed from my own jealousy, or insecurity, or fear, but it was on the surface, and it was boiling. 'Am I supposed to tell you that the boy I'm in love with, one of my best friends, loves you? And what'm I supposed to expect back from you? You're with _Seamus!_ Even when he leaves, you're still going to be crazy about him! Harry doesn't stand a chance, and that hurts me, because he wants _you_, and he can't have you! But that also means I can't have him either!' I wrenched my arm from her grip. 'Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that please you, Ginny?' I felt hot tears begin to pour from my stinging eyes.

Ginny stood opposite me, her mouth wide open, her brown eyes the rough shape and size of tennis balls. 'You… you're in _love_ with Harry?'

'I don't want to talk about this now.'

'You… you just said…'

'I _said_ I don't want to talk about this now. There are other things on my mind that need to be addressed.'

Ginny seemed like she was about to argue, but Luna could sense the tension and quite literally dragged Ginny from the room, quietly whispering into her ear. I had no idea what she said, and I quite honestly did not care at that precise moment. This quarrel had shaken me, but I needed to know. I had to find out. The rest of my life depended on it, and I'm not even the melodramatic kind. Locking my door and casting a jinx so that anyone who could enter did become jelly, I sat down on the bed. I slit open the envelope with trembling hands…

Heavy parchment fell out, and I saw black writing scribbled across the page. Breathing deeply, I read it slower than I had in my entire life.

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	5. Reconciliation

**A/N: Hey! Thanks for all the reviews, it's really encouraging! Here's the next chapter, I hope you'll enjoy it! See you at the end of the page. XD**

**Disclaimer: Draco Malfoy- mine? I wish. -_-  
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_"Your mother warned you there'd be days like these; _

_But she didn't tell you when the world has brought you down to your knees. _

_And I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour; _

_I'll be there for you, like I've been there before; _

_I'll be there for you, 'cause you're there for me too_."

-"I'll be there for you", Bobby Vinton.

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**Chapter Five- Reconciliation**

(Draco Malfoy)

Pansy sat on my lap, smoothing down the hair on my forehead, while I lounged in one of the armchairs in front of the fire in the Heads' Common Room. She was blabbing away about some Ravenclaw boy who had apparently "checked her out" at dinner; I knew that, personally, she enjoyed the attention of men, even though she was acting (for my benefit, it seems) like it revolted her. As she sat before me, I realized that it wasn't as though she wasn't something to look at. She was skinny, that was true, but her face had matured from its childhood chubbiness and was now quite attractive. Her long black hair matched her dark eyes, which stood out from the tanned skin of her face and body.

'What's wrong, Draco?' she inquired, frowning slightly. She'd noticed me zone out, then? This was a first.

'Nothing,' I replied, closing my eyes and trying to lose myself in the feeling I got when she placed her cool hand against my forehead- but that's where the problem was. I _didn't_ feel anything when she touched me- well, apart from lust, of course, but that was just my teenage hormones, and only when she touched me in- ahem- _other _places.

I was expected to spend my entire life with her- it had been taken for granted since we were toddlers, almost, that we would grow up together, be the best of friends and finally get married. And that's what had happened- we'd spent most of our childhood together- Pansy's mother, Violet, would conveniently drop her off at Malfoy Manor and she and Mother would head off for a weekend at their favourite spa in Nice.

And from an age that young, Pansy had hoarded a ridiculous claim over me. We weren't officially a couple, and neither were we the best of friends, but that did not stop her from calling me her boyfriend, throwing herself at me publicly and glaring at any girl who dared to look at me. But she knew that I would not defy my parents' wishes and that, in the end, I would probably end up with her, which is why this romance was kept alive.

I was spared from further ranting when there was a loud rapping on the portrait hole. Pansy went to open the hole and cast a wary look in my direction before moving out of the way so that the newcomer could enter. First visible was sleek black hair, followed by a tall, lean figure and as he straightened up and faced me, I realized with a jolt that it was Blaise.

'Malfoy,' he greeted me confidently.

'Zabini.' I nodded in reply, keeping the bizarre emotion that had welled up in me at the sight of my old friend under check.

'Pansy,' he said, smiling lopsidedly at her where she stood in no-man's land between my seat and Blaise, just as she had all those months ago, trying to prevent our fight.

She smiled back at him, but it was hindered by an anxiety that Blaise seemed to lack completely as he turned back to me. 'I want to talk to you about something, Malfoy.'

I paused for a second before replying. 'Take a seat,' I said coolly, gesturing to the chair next to me. It seemed that Pansy wanted to be near enough to us, and hurried over to perch herself on the arm of my chair before Blaise had loped with an easy grace to where I had pointed.

'So, how have you been?' he asked me casually.

'Fine,' I replied mechanically.

'And your parents?' Blaise had been another of my childhood playmates. As my only true friend, Blaise had known my parents for about as long as I had, and possibly just as well. His mother was a gorgeous witch nearing her forties, famed for having reached her thirteenth husband. Blaise was borne of her first husband, a Venetian she had met as a teenager and married after a night of tomfoolery in a bar. Surprisingly, it had been her longest lasting marriage- seventeen months, until Blaise's father, Claude, discovering his wife was pregnant and, not wanting a child so early in life, filed for divorce. He lived in Paris now, but Blaise had only met him once, on the occasion of his mother's seventh marriage, to a Parisian. Or was it eighth? It didn't really matter.

'They are …as happy as ever,' I said curtly; after all, it was not a lie. Whatever Mother's condition, she was as positive and cheerful as ever.

'That's good to know,' Blaise replied. 'And-'

'I'm not sitting around here for small talk. So cut to the chase, Zabini.'

Blaise raised a dark eyebrow. 'Fine. But you needn't be so short, Malfoy. I came to apologize.'

'Apologize?' I sneered, my defence mechanism rearing up automatically. 'Really? And what could have caused this sudden change of heart?'

'Whatever choices we make for our future shouldn't effect our present. It's not worth ruining our friendship over the abstract prospect of future.'

'It's not quite so abstract anymore,' I stated dully, but it wasn't often that you'd hear a Slytherin say the word "friendship" out loud and not be ashamed or sarcastic.

Blaise shrugged. 'Be that as it may, I still think we should put our personal differences aside. We still have a year before we… go our own ways, shall I say.'

I could tell that Blaise was picking his words carefully, especially after the ruckus his open criticism and cynicism towards the Death Eaters had caused previously. I considered; there was nothing I would like more than to have Blaise back in my life, as temporary as it may be. I had grown up without a sibling, like all other Malfoy boys for the past seven decades, and Blaise had been like the brother I knew I would never have.

'Draco…?' he said tentatively, almost like an inquiry.

I looked up to meet his deceptive blue eyes. 'Blaise.' This was all the confirmation either of us needed. I held out my hand to him, and he took it, smiling. Pansy let out a squeaky sob and her tears wet our shoulders as she pulled both of us into a hug. Such Gryffindor-like behaviour, I thought disdainfully- a "_group-hug_", as they would call it.

The irony, that at the very moment I thought those words, the furious, bushy-haired, Gryffindor Head Girl burst into the room.

Pansy let go of us immediately, glaring at the Mudblood, who was red with rage, panting hard, but when she spoke, it was with a quiet sarcasm. 'Oh, no, please don't stop on my account. After all, what's a Head Boy duty here or there when you'd obviously be missing you're threesome date, right, Malfoy?' Her face broke into a mordant smile.

I checked my wristwatch and saw with regret that she was correct- I was late for our nightly patrol. I turned to Blaise and Pansy. 'Unfortunately, I have to spend the next two hours with the Mudblood, so it's no use for either of you to wait. You should get going.' Blaise clapped me on the shoulder and Pansy kissed me shamelessly while the Mudblood tapped her feet impatiently, looking pointedly at the ceiling. Finally, Blaise cleared his throat and Pansy let go and flounced out of the room, Blaise close behind her.

'Shall we?' the Mudblood suggested, gesturing at the door.

It had been three days since our previous exchange concerning the letters, and ever since, we had been carefully polite to each other; she had seemed quiet and pensive the past two days, but today it seemed she was in a better mood than usual- several times during the first half hour of our watch, I found her smiling and humming to herself, often tunes that I recognized.

I thought that this might be a good opportunity to wheedle new information out of her, but before I had decided how to start the conversation, she spoke up.

'Threesome, huh, Malfoy?' She was wearing the same impish grin that she had in the Common Room; it seemed foreign in her features, because she was usually so sombre in my presence.

I rolled my eyes. 'Please, Granger, keep your sick imagination to yourself. I'm sure a threesome is a very desirous fantasy for you Gryffindors, especially the "_Golden Trio_", but we don't indulge ourselves in such distorted fancies.'

Surprisingly, she smiled. 'Oh, lighten up, ferret. I'm in a good mood, and I'm trying to be nice, so don't spoil it. It's not very easy.'

'So what's the occasion? Why so happy? Has the Weasel confessed his deepest feelings to you? Or was it Scarhead?'

She laughed, but the pretence in it was easily detected, and I knew I had struck a nerve- interesting. 'Neither, I can confirm that. Ron's too immature, and Harry's crazy about Ginny, so…'

'And would it please you if either of them did?'

Her eyes narrowed. 'Why'm I telling you all of this?'

'Maybe I'm a good listener.'

She regarded me carefully, as if trying to find out what I was thinking- an impossible feat, since I had been trained in Occlumency and Legimency by my psychotic, yet beloved, Aunt Bella; and a poker face is just something Malfoys are born with. It was so seldom that we ever felt any real emotion that it hardly ever showed on our faces. The only person who was quite achieved at sensing my feelings, that too after almost two decades of practice with Father, was my mother. I doubted whether Granger, of all people, would be able to see through it so soon.

And she probably found no hidden agenda, either, because she continued. 'Well… no, not either of them… maybe just one…' She seemed rather sheepish.

Bingo. 'I thought so. Even braniac Granger has to have feelings. '

Her expression betrayed surprise as she looked up at me. 'Well… yeah… But it's so annoying that sometimes people seem to think that…well, that I don't have feelings… like I'm some kind of robot, or something…'

I frowned. 'Robot? What the hell is that?'

'It's a Muggle machine,' she said, smiling slightly. 'Oh, never mind. It's just that… I've always been the one who's had to think things out, and keep them under control, and make sure we know what we're doing. Harry's the brave one-' I snorted, and she frowned at me, so I waved my hand to tell her to continue. '-he doesn't really think about what he's doing, and Ron's even more reckless, I'm always trying to figure out how to keep them safe, but I always feel so unappreciated. They don't know how hard it gets sometimes…' she trailed of dismally, and I marvelled at the goldmine of information she'd just spewed out. Maybe Granger _was_ losing her touch.

'By "them", you mean Potty and Weasel, I'm guessing?' I asked.

She nodded. 'Others too… Ginny… Luna, not so much, but then, whatever she knows, she tells Ginny, which is unbelievably maddening.'

'Now, why wouldn't you want Weaslette to know?' I asked her, but then the answer fell into place immediately. 'Oh… because you don't want her to know that you like her brother.'

She neither confirmed nor denied, her eyes trained on the stairs below us.

'Wait,' I said, more to myself than to her. 'It makes more sense if… if you like Potty, who likes Weaslette…'

This time she looked up, and her eyes told me that my second guess was the correct one. So she liked Potter, did she? Well, it didn't surprise me. They'd been joined at the hips ever since the troll episode in First Year; she probably thought all the ridiculous situations he got into, and then managed to wriggle out of, were noble and brave, depicting all the stupid qualities that Gryffindors were famous for.

'Oh, I see… so does Potter know?'

'No! Of course not!' She looked alarmed at the very thought. 'Are you insane? Can you imagine how weird that would be?'

'And why is that?'

'Because we're best friends! It would make things so weird, especially if Ginny started liking Harry, and they didn't do anything because of me!'

'Isn't the Weaslette with someone else?' I frowned at the fact that I knew this nugget of information. Well, the Weaslette was quite popular among boys, and it wasn't without reason either. I'd always thought it was a shame that she was born into a family of blood traitors.

'Yes, but Seamus' leaving school after New Years'!' Granger cried.

'Ah. But I still think you should tell Potter. If you don't, who knows what opportunity you might be missing?'

She nodded and her eyes became unfocused again as she sunk into her thoughts.

'Enough about me,' she stated about ten minutes later. 'You and Pansy?'

I shrugged. 'I guess.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'You guess?'

'It's… not so simple.'

'Oh really? Try me.'

I considered her, almost a foot shorter than me, her insane hair tamed back into a long braid, her figure shrouded in her nun-like school robes, looking up at me with huge, brown eyes, which flickered in the torch-light as we strode through the corridors. Oh, what the hell, I thought- she can't be worse than the girls I already knew.

'I've known Pansy ever since we were children. The Parkinsons are also Dea-… family friends.' I watched her to see if she'd sensed the words "Death Eaters" in the offing. If she had, she decided to ignore it. I continued. 'Ever since we were born, practically, it was taken for granted that we would get married.'

She looked startled. 'That's archaic! It's like … arranged marriage for royalty, or something.'

I was surprised that, after seven years in the magical world, she still hadn't quite understood the power of the name Malfoy. 'That's exactly what we are, Granger.'

She rolled her eyes, about to argue, but I cut across her. 'No, it's a fact. Malfoys can almost be considered magical royalty in Britain. We're the oldest magical family in existence in Britain, apart from the Peverells.'

'Then you _are_ the oldest,' she muttered, almost to herself.

'Sorry?' I asked, confused. What was she talking about?

She seemed to catch herself. 'Oh, just that… well, the Peverells are now extinct in the male bloodline, so… technically, the Malfoys are the oldest.'

I frowned. 'How the hell do you even _know_ that?'

'I read it somewhere,' she answered evasively, and while this was easily the most obvious, believable answer one could expect from Granger, I got the distinct feeling that she was being guarded about the topic. The way she diverted off to a different topic seemed like proof in my eyes. 'So you don't get a choice in who you marry, then?'

I shook my head. 'Not that I don't get a choice, but Pansy is the most appropriate. Her family is also one of the older ones, although I suppose there are others. The Greengrasses, or the Notts, for example. Any Death Eater's daughter would do for me.' I smirked at her, and she dropped the topic. Somewhere in the distance, the clock struck twelve and we headed back to our dorm.

'Goodnight,' she said as she opened the door to her room. I nodded, and she disappeared, shutting the door behind her with a sharp click. I shut my door, stripped down to my boxers and slipped under the covers. I was feeling exhausted, but surprisingly, sleep did not claim me immediately. Instead, my thoughts turned to all that Granger had revealed to me today.

I thought I understood Potter's psychology quite well- it was quite common, the heroic, rushing-into-the-fray, claiming-responsibility type. Everyone had thought I was jealous of him since First Year, but it was merely that I knew what would most rile him up, and I used it against him. I honestly had no desire to have my family killed and my head cut open to become a celebrity.

And the Weasel- he was obviously just the sidekick. Potter treated him like a friend, but he played the role of a mere assistant and did not share the fame that Scarhead did.

The Mudblood- she was the fascinating one. I'd been taught by Father from an early age that Mudbloods were humans below us in every way- they were a race apart, unintelligent, distasteful, ugly, dim-witted and impure.

But Granger had begun defying this image since our First Year. She was not unintelligent or dim-witted; she was more clever and skilful than almost everyone else in our Year, with the possible exception of me; and though she may have been unsightly in her early years, she was not unattractive at present, considering her past- she just kept it hidden under the unflattering clothes she wore.

Getting to know her a bit more everyday, I found that she was not as disagreeable as I'd imagined. But purity… well, that remained debatable, since there was no way to prove that she, or anyone, for that matter, was pure.

My thoughts began to drift towards Father, and then Mother, and Blaise, and soon I was entangled in twisted dreams of cursed necklaces and wands that burst into fire in my grip while the Mudblood stood in the background, cackling and saying, 'See? You should have told me- I could've helped you!'

I couldn't remember any of this when I awoke the next morning.

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	6. Party In Hell

**A/N: Hey! I am so, so, SO sorry about how long I've taken! Yes, it is completely, utterly inexcusable, but I still HAVE prepared a long list of excuses:**

**1) I was down with the flu a couple of times**

**2) I went on a week-long camping trip from school**

**3) It's been a crazy quarter in general? =P**

**4) My beta resurfaced for a bit, and even told me to send along the next chapter, but then promptly disappeared from the face of the earth- again. -_-**

**Yes, throw whatever you want at me, I deserve it. But here it is, the next chapter, and I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: Even all this time I spent away from wasn't enough for me to buy rights to Harry Potter.**

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"Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find_

_ That what you're looking for has been here the whole time _

_If you could see that I'm the one who understands you _

_Been here all along, so why can't you see?_

_You, you belong with me."_

-"You Belong With Me", Taylor Swift

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**Chapter Six- Party in Hell**

(Hermione Granger)

"…_the part of the soul that inhabits the Horcrux depends on the object in which it resides for protection. Therefore, if the container is destroyed, the soul will cease to exist. Thus, the most effective means of destroying a Horcrux is by destroying the container, but this can only be done with a select number of powerful magical substances, as listed below…"_

'Hermione?' I looked up from the yellowing parchment to see a windswept and anxious Harry standing before me in Quidditch robes. 'Can I join you?'

'Sure,' I replied, waving my wand to remove the pile of books stacked on the chair opposite me. Harry threw himself down on it, burying his head into his arms with a heavy sigh. 'Everything alright in there?' I said, tapping his head.

He smiled at me sarcastically. 'Apart from the fact that I'm the "Chosen One" who has to defeat Voldemort, that Rita Skeeter's publishing all sorts of crap about me in her new magazine, that I'm in love with my best friend's sister and that I still haven't finished my Defence Against the Dark essay, which is due tomorrow, yep, everything's great.'

I shut my book with a loud _thud_ and had to bite down on my lip in an attempt to stop myself from laughing as Harry disappeared, coughing, behind a cloud of dust.

'Which part of this d'you find funny?' he demanded, flapping his arms wildly to get rid of the dust.

'I'm actually trying to decide which part is funniest.' My voice was shaking with repressed mirth as he rumpled his already tangled hair to dislodge more of the dust. He grimaced and I settled down. 'So which of your problems d'you want to tackle first?'

He didn't seem very surprised. 'I don't know… which d'you think is the easiest to tackle?'

'Well, your essay, of course,' I said matter-of-factly. I flicked my wand again and two thick volumes flew out of the shelf behind Harry and landed in front of him. 'These should help.' He shot me a dark look; I knew he was hoping I'd let him copy my essay, I'd decided they needed to get things done alone; after all, the NEWTs were only a few months away! I smiled sweetly, and he shook his head, shoving the books into his bag.

'And at the moment, the most I can do about the Skeeter cow is send her a threat about revealing her ugly secret. Maybe that'll shut her up about the Chosen One for a while.' Harry looked slightly more relieved as I said this.

'And about Ginny…' I continued, and I saw him tense once more, although he tried to hide it. 'Well, Harry, I'm not too sure what I can say about that one. I mean, you know as well as I do that she's with Seamus now. Seamus _is _leaving at the end of the year…'

'Really?' Harry looked slightly more hopeful, but I shook my head.

'Look, Harry, I'm Ginny's best friend, okay? I know how she feels about Seamus. Now, I don't know if that will change once he leaves, but we all know what Ginny's like. She's so fickle-minded at times, it's hard to predict how she'll be acting or feeling. I know she had feelings for you before, but right at present, she only thinks of you as a friend. A close friend, I grant you, but just a friend nonetheless.'

As I spoke, I watched the edge of Harry's lips turn down into a frown. 'So… you're saying…what… you're saying I should give up? That I don't stand a chance at all? I always knew I wasn't good enough for her,' he said glumly, and I chided myself for making him feel so bad about himself.

'No, Harry, that's not what I mean at all!' The battle waged within me again- should I tell him to hang on, and commit suicide with respect to my chances with him? Or should I tell him to let go? What if, even after he'd moved on from Ginny, I still didn't stand a chance? What if he fell for someone else who was even more unattainable, and ended up miserable? What if Ginny gave him a chance after Seamus left? Did I want to be responsible for him losing the chance at finding love? 'Look, Harry, I just don't want you to get hurt because you'd gotten you hopes up too high. I don't understand why Ginny doesn't like you now, okay? But it's not because you're not good enough for her. You're good enough for any girl in the world, as long as you care enough about her.'

He looked up at me in wonder, and I winced at the amount of raw emotion I'd let show in that sentence. 'You think so?'

'Most definitely,' I affirmed.

'Even… even you?' he blushed slightly as he asked and I felt my heart jump. 'Okay, you know what? That's a stupid question. Forget I asked.'

I shook my head, laughing. 'You know what, Harry? I never thought that _you_, of all people, would need an ego boost. I mean, being the Chosen One, having so many fans, people looking up to you as the Leader of the Light… you'd be the last person I'd expect to suffer from personal insecurity.'

Harry blushed deeper and shifted his gaze to the book lying on the table in front of me. He frowned. 'What're you reading?'

I winked at him. 'The solution to you're first and biggest problem.' I wiped the dust off the leather cover of the ancient gilded volume and turned it to let him read the title. I saw his lips tracing the words "_Secrets of the Darkest Art"._ He looked up at me questioningly.

'This is the book Dumbledore gave you in your last lesson with him, remember? I figured you'd never read it, so I got it from your dormitory while you were at Quidditch practice yesterday.'

He rubbed his head guiltily. 'Well, you know, the first match is coming up and we've been training really hard, it hasn't been easy with all this rain, and Malfoy, that bastard, keeps using Head Boy privileges to get us off the pitch, so…'

'Give it a rest, Harry,' I cut across him. 'Both of us know you haven't touched this since you got it. It's okay, I'm almost finished. I was just reading the ways to destroy a Horcrux, and it's really fascinating, you know, in a despicable sort of way. But what I really don't understand is how…' I could tell from the way his eyes had glazed over that Harry had stopped paying attention, either because he was bored, or because he had no idea what I was saying. 'Fine, fine. Forget I said anything,' I muttered.

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze across the table. I slapped myself mentally for the way my skin tingled when he touched me. 'Thanks so much, Mione. I have no idea what I'd do without you.'

'I just gave you solutions to all your problems. Of course you don't,' I said, grinning at him. He beamed at me as he rose from his chair, swung his bag on to his shoulder, turned the corner around the bookshelf and out of my sight.

With a sigh, I rifled through the book, trying to find the page where I'd left of. My mind wandered aimlessly; had Harry said Malfoy was using his Head Boy licence to book the Quidditch pitch? I tried to remember which power this was, but I couldn't think of any. So he was abusing it, was he? I'd have to tell him off for it…

Suddenly, the pages of the book beneath my idle fingers fluttered of their own accord, coming to a sudden stop at the page headed "_Substances Used in the Destruction of Horcruxes_". My hands retreated beneath the table and I watched it fearfully as I recalled Harry describing Tom Riddle's diary acting similarly. Thankfully, no window seemed to open up in the middle of the page, and I doubted whether Dumbledore would give Harry a cursed book, but I still had to make sure. I snatched up my wand and was about to cast a spell for it to reveal all its enchantments, when a voice sneered from directly behind me.

'Tut tut, Granger, for the _smartest witch of our age_,' there was a cynical emphasis on the last five words, 'you don't seem very good at recognizing the simplest of spells.'

I snapped around to see Malfoy leaning casually against the bookshelf behind me, twirling his wand between his fingers, watching me.

'What d'you want, Malfoy?' I grumbled, not in a mood to play mental games.

'What makes you think you possess something I _want_, Mudblood?' he scoffed, raising a pale eyebrow.

'Then what the hell d'you think you're doing here?'

'As much time as you spend here, Granger, you do not _own _this library.'

'There has to be a reason you're standing here.'

'I am merely curious as to why Potter called me a bastard. I wonder what I did this time for him to flatter me so.'

'Are you being sarcastic?' I frowned. Malfoy was such a puzzle.

'Hardly,' he replied silkily. 'Think about it, Mudblood. Potter's insults can be considered compliments from my perspective.'

That did make sense, in some twisted way, but then something hit me. '_Why _were you eavesdropping on us?' I demanded, my frown deepening.

'I was not eavesdropping on you. I can't help it if you and your friends yell out your discussions and call out names of people who are in the vicinity.'

I winced as I realized we had put no effort into keeping our voices down. 'Oh, well, I meant to talk to you about that in any case, Malfoy.'

'Oh really?' To my disgruntlement, he sat down in Harry's recently vacated seat.

'Yes.' I took a deep breath. 'You've been abusing your Head Boy powers. I can report you to Dumbledore for that.'

'And how have I been abusing my powers, pray tell?' he drawled.

I glared at him. 'I don't pretend to understand what kind of attraction you boys have towards Quidditch, but apparently you've been using your Head Boy powers to book the Quidditch pitch, which you actually can't do, so-'

'Sorry to disappoint you, Granger,' he cut across me. 'But I haven't done anything of the sort. It's my duty to send any students out of bounds after hours inside immediately. If Potter decides to hang around with the Weaslette, her boy-toy and the Weasel in muddy Quidditch robes on the Quidditch pitch even one minute beyond the time limit, then I choose whichever punishment I want. Your friends should consider themselves lucky that they got away without detention.'

For about thirty-six seconds, my mouth flapped open and shut, not sure of what I was going to say. Finally, the words that spilled out of my mouth were 'Why- why di- didn't you-u?'

Malfoy smirked. 'I'd expect the Head Girl to be slightly more articulate, Granger.'

I got a hold on myself. 'Why didn't you give them detention?'

He shrugged. 'I felt bad for the pathetic way in which Potter was ogling at the Weaslette and Finnigan; and Weasel is always pitiful, with his uncanny combination of stupidity and lack of magical ability or good looks. So I let them go. No joy in picking on those inferior to you, after all.'

His eyes glinted malevolently, and I felt a rage grip me as he insulted my friends. But the anger evaporated quickly as I realized two things- firstly, Harry had lied about Malfoy picking on him- he had just been doing his duty. And secondly, it seemed that Malfoy had matured; he had just said that there was no pleasure on picking on those below himself, which was a certain improvement from Fifth Year when, as a Prefect, he had bullied around First Years. I felt slightly shameful for accosting him like that, but as I shifted my gaze to him, I saw him looking at my book with his eyebrows slightly creased. Acting like I hadn't noticed where he was looking, I closed my book.

'What're you reading?' he asked casually, tilting his chair on its back legs, as I stuffed the thick volume into my bag.

'Oh, just something for Defence Against the Dark Arts.' I tried to sound off-hand, flipping my braid over my shoulder and reminding myself of Lavender. I winced mentally at the thought.

'Really?' Malfoy had erased the frown from his face and replaced it with careful nonchalance. 'Where did you get that book?'

'Oh, from somewhere around here.' I hated the way my voice shook whenever I tried lying, even when it was for a good cause. 'Why're you so concerned, anyway?'

'Because I was thinking of a similar topic for my term paper as well, but when I went to Professor Snape, he confirmed my belief that they are a _banned subject_ in Hogwarts.' He smirked. 'I'm sure a witch like you, Mudblood, has memorized enough Hogwarts rulebooks and history to know _that_. And if it _is_ a banned topic, then how did you get your hands on a book like that?'

I became defensive. 'How I get my books, Malfoy, is none of your business. I can read whatever I want.'

'Oh, but I don't think so.' The look on his face was beginning to scare me as he leaned forward. 'If I report this to the authority… well, you will be the one punished.'

'Please- Dumbledore wouldn't do anything to me,' I scoffed confidently.

His smile was truly, purely evil. 'Oh, but who said anything about Dumbledore, Granger?'

My eyes widened as realization crashed over me. I was sure that even if Voldemort hadn't told the Death Eaters, someone must have realized by now how exactly Voldemort had made himself "immortal", as he so claimed. What if Malfoy, who had grown up in a house surely full of Dark magic and artefacts, knew about the Horcruxes? What if he somehow passed the information along to Voldemort? That would make our search doubly harder.

'You don't mean…' I trailed off.

'Caught on, have you?' he sneered. 'I doubt _he'd_ be happy if he found out…'

Malfoy had been very unlike himself- he'd dug a hole for himself. I couldn't help but push him into it. 'Really, Malfoy? Now, why would _Voldemort_ be upset about me reading about Horcruxes?'

'_Do not speak his name_!' he hissed vehemently. If Malfoy had realized his mistake, he didn't let it show on his face.

I snorted before continuing. 'Wouldn't you think he'd be pleased that he's inspired young witches and wizards to learn about the Dark Arts?'

'Not witches and wizards like you, Mudblood,' Malfoy said, in a comeback I hadn't expected from him. 'He doesn't want dirty little aspirants like you. His life's aim is to relieve the world filth like you.'

'Go to _hell_, Malfoy,' I spat, jumping to my feet.

'Oh, I will.' He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, arms folded behind his head. 'And I'll throw a party there, Mudblood- open for all.' He smirked.

A noise very similar to a growl escaped me as I snatched up my wand and bag. I knew that this was a golden opportunity to strangle more information out of him, but I had had enough of his nonsense.

As I walked away, Malfoy called out. 'Good luck with your term paper, Granger.'

But I didn't spare him a backward glance as I stormed out of the library, leaving an astonished Madam Pince in my wake.

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**Leave a review, even if it IS only to chuck things at me. *ducks* *resurfaces* *grins***


	7. Expectations

**A/N: Oh my God, I am so sorry! I know I havent uploaded in... ages. I've just been really busy with all this drama and school and... well, all excuses fail. I'm sorry. Chuck whatever you want at me in your reviews. Just please, do review. =)**

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_"I walk a lonely road_

_ The only one that I have ever known_

_ Don't know where it goes_

_ But it's home to me and I walk alone_

_ I walk this empty street_

_ On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams_

_ Where the city sleeps and I'm the only one and I walk alone."_

-_Boulevard of Broken Dreams_, Green Day

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**Chapter Seven- Expectations**

(Draco Malfoy)

'…Potter!'

Potter's head snapped up as Snape called out his name. 'Yes, sir?'

'What is the use of dragon blood in treating a burn attained from Fiendfyre?'

'Sorry, sir?'

_Restore the lost blood and soothe the nerves, _I thought, yawning; this was an almost daily occurrence. It seemed that Potter had a knack for failing at any subject that Snape taught, no matter whether Potions or DADA. Meanwhile, Granger was practically dislocating her right shoulder in an attempt to catch Snape's attention. I could never understand why she bothered.

Once upon a time, I may have been jealous of Granger for gaining constant praise from the teachers, but now I knew better. My future was out of the line of academic achievement. Death Eaters had to be loyal, dedicated and determined; good grades and the good wishes of teachers were of no value. You needed to be cunning, witty and scheming; you needed to know how to protect your own back, because you could be sure as hell that no one else was going to be there for you. That was how we were; that was the Slytherin dominant trait: self-interest and self-preservation above all.

This aside, I did pride myself on intellect. Doing well in school gave me a sense of self-satisfaction; it was like a second nature and helped me follow a pattern in life. Sometimes, it even seemed like a fallback in case things ever went awry with the Dark side…

'Mr Malfoy?' I was awoken from my trance as Snape called out my name. All around me, students were packing up and leaving. 'A word, please?' My stomach felt uncomfortably empty, so I hoped Snape wouldn't take too long before I could go down to dinner.

I slung my bag on my shoulder and walked up to Snape's desk. We watched Potter shuffling out of the room, muttering mutinously and casting the pair of us a dark look- he'd probably earned another detention for being unable to answer the question. Snape flicked his wand, and the door closed behind Potter with a sharp click.

'Anything you want, Professor?'

'Draco, your father contacted me recently.' I remained quiet, waiting for him to continue. 'He is worried about you, Draco.'

'Really? That's new.' I snorted, unable to help myself.

Snape cast me a withering look. 'Contrary to what you seem to think, Draco, your father cares for you deeply. He asked me talk to you, because you have not replied to his last letter, which he considers very inappropriate behaviour. He is worried about your reaction to your mother's…ah, deteriorating condition.'

'I don't want to talk about it,' I muttered, studying the bird on the windowsill with unwavering absorption.

'Do not block your father out like this, Draco. He only wants the best for you. And while he wants the best for your mother as well, there is nothing any of us can do for her at the moment, so I do not see why you are blaming your father for thi-'

'Don't act like you know how I feel!' I bellowed, unable to hold it in anymore. 'You don't… you don't know what it's like… she… she's rotting away, slowly and painfully, and there's nothing _anyone _can do about it?' I paused, panting as though I'd been running a mile. 'I know Father thinks I'm an idiot, but I didn't expect this… this bullshit, from you as well, Snape!' He scrutinised me carefully, trying to read my thoughts, but he couldn't break past my defences. 'Don't even think about it,' I growled.

He sighed. 'Draco, I had to try, for your father's sa-'

'I don't want to discuss this, so unless you have anything further to say-'

'It is also my sad duty to remind you, as your Head of House, that you and Granger should get together soon and discuss the Halloween decorations. The two of you are in charge, of course, as Heads, but you can allot work to the Prefects as well.'

I glowered at Snape. Was all he had today bad news? 'Is that all?'

'Yes it is. Remember, Draco, that if there's anything you need to discuss-' But I had slammed the door behind me and stalked off down the corridor before he could even finish that sentence. I was breathing heavily, and my hands, balled into fists, were trembling in fury. I felt my previous hunger melt away to be replaced by an uncharacteristic queasiness as I thought of my father's "concern" for me. He sends me news that mother's entire right side had been paralysed, in a _letter_, and he expects me to reply? What was I supposed to offer him? Support? Sympathy? Concern? How was I supposed to do that, when he had never taught me to? I had never received any support, sympathy or concern from him- how did he expect me to reciprocate? _I_ was the teenager who had to deal with the possibility of his mother dying… and I was so tired… tired of these expectations people kept hoisting on me… and they wanted me to keep living up to them… how? Did they ever consider my feelings?

Fuming silently, I suddenly realized that my feet had carried me up to the portrait of the founders.

'Password, dear?' asked Hufflepuff cheerily, but her smile faltered at the look on my face.

'Intelligence,' I spat, and the portrait hole appeared. I thought I heard whispering from the portrait as I climbed through, but I tried to ignore it. I walked straight across the room and stood before the huge arched window.

I was exhausted, but I did not feeling like going to bed so early. I thought I could see two figures by the edge of the lake, but I could not bring myself to care. The beauty of the scenery was overwhelming, but it did not make me feel better.

Instead, I felt like my insides were being consumed by darkness, just as the darkness had overpowered the light in the sky outside. The reflection of the stars that had appeared in the night sky could be seen on the surface of the Black Lake, but I could not think of anything positive anymore; I had nothing to look forward to. I did not know what would happen to Mother, and Father would be of no help; I would end up married to Pansy, or some other air-headed social butterfly my family approved of; I would produce a suitable heir; I would be a slave to the Dark Lord; I would fight in a war and do his bidding, even if I had to give up my life.

In short, I would fulfill all the dreams my parents had had for me, and do nothing that I wanted to. But what was there for me to do? I had never had dreams of my own; I was always compelled to accept what my parents wanted for me as my own desires; I'd never tried to create ambitions of my own…

Someone cleared their throat behind me. It could only be Granger- we were not allowed to tell anyone else the password. 'Yes, Granger?'

'Umm… I have your dinner with me.'

'What?'

'Well, if you turned around, you'd understand.'

I spun on the spot, and the vision that met me was unfamiliar and unexpected: Granger stood in her school uniform, carrying not only her huge schoolbag, but also a tray, laden with dishes. 'How the fuck… how did you know?'

Granger frowned. 'It was quite odd, actually. Professor Snape came up to me as I was leaving the Hall after dinner, and told me that you hadn't eaten, and that I should take a tray of food up to you.'

My confusion deepened. 'And you agreed?'

'Well, not initially. I asked him why he didn't send Parkinson, or one of your other evil little minions, but he said something about it being my duty as Head Girl to stand by the Head Boy in times of need.' She rolled her eyes. 'In any case, I figured it wouldn't make much of a difference, since I was heading here to finish off my Potions assignment.' I marvelled at the speed at which she spoke, not faltering even once. Only girls could do that. It was somehow soothing, distracting. 'And could you please tell me where you want to eat? This is pretty heavy, you know.'

'Why don't you just levitate it?' I inquired, honestly curious.

She shrugged, the tray quivering precariously. 'I don't know. It's food. Somehow, I don't like the idea of using magic on something I'm going to eat. And Malfoy…' she trailed off, gesturing helplessly at the tray again.

'I'm not really hungry… just put it down on the floor,' I said, sitting down where I was; my feet were anchored to the spot; I couldn't move an inch. She looked slightly bewildered as she set the tray down in front of me.

'I'll be off now,' she announced, turning swiftly on her heel and heading towards to her room, but for some inexplicable reason, I called out to her.

'Granger?'

She turned back. 'Yes, Malfoy?'

'D'you… would you mind staying here while I eat?'

She looked utterly taken aback. 'Stay here?'

'I'm not used to eating alone.' I informed her, pulling the chipolatas towards me.

She chuckled, before setting her bag down and sitting down opposite me, legs pulled up against her chest. 'So who d'you eat with at home?'

I was surprised she was making conversation. In the month that had passed since our exchange in the library, we had been very carefully civil to one another, avoiding contact as much as possible. Conversation, even during the nightly patrol sessions, was minimal.

'Well, before it was always just Mother, because Father was never home, but recently, just the house-elves who wait on us.' She looked slightly offended, and I realized she might think I wanted her to wait on me. 'No need to look like that, Granger, you don't have to wait on me.'

She pursed her lips. 'Well, no, that's not what I was thinking, but _thank you_ for clearing that out.' I smirked. 'Actually, I was going to tell you off about making those poor house-elves work so hard for you, but then I figured it would be lost on you, so…'

'Wise move,' I said. 'I never understood why you would care about house-elves. They _like_ what they do.'

'That's because they've been brainwashed into thinking wizards are their superiors! You won't _believe_ how unfair the legislation for house-elves is!' There was a manic glint in her eyes that scared as well as amused me.

'Granger.'

'It's been this way for centuries! Nobody cares about how they feel! They aren't even allowed the freedom to decide what they want to do with their lives!'

'Granger.'

'I mean, it's-'

'Granger.'

'Alright, alright. Forget I said anything,' she grumbled.

But something she had said had caught my attention and I felt a sudden rush of compassion towards the house-elves- _compassion_? Really? This was new.

'Granger?'

'Yes?' She smeared a chipolata from my tray with ketchup and popped it into her mouth.

'Can I ask you a question?'

She narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously. 'What?' she said rather bluntly.

I hesitated for a moment. 'What did you want to be when you grew up?'

She watched me for a while with no change in her expression, as though she couldn't believe that this was my real question. 'What I wanted to be when I grew up?' she repeated.

I nodded, carefully spearing my steak.

'Well, ever since I was about five, I wanted to be Prime Minister.'

I looked up at her in confusion. 'Prime Minister?'

'It's… sort of like the Muggle version of the Minister of Magic. He, or in my case, she's the Head of the Parliament. She's the most powerful person in all of England, and that's what I wanted to be. My parents…' she paused.

'What?'

She shook her head and continued, although there was still a slight crease on her forehead. 'My parents encouraged me a lot, putting me into all sorts of debate clubs and things. But then I found out I was a witch… ever since then, all sorts of other crazy things have entered my mind… Auror… Curse-breaker… maybe something for the Department of Control of Magical Creatures… But I've always sort of hoped I'd still be able to become the Prime Minister.' She smiled sheepishly.

'So… you haven't decided what you want to be?' I asked.

'Oh no, I have.' She grinned widely. 'Ever since I gave my OWLs, I've decided that I'll become a Healer. That is… after the war.'

'After the war…' I muttered. 'So… you think you'll live after the war?'

She seemed to ponder over this. 'I don't know… but I certainly hope so.'

'You do?'

She looked shocked. 'You don't?'

I shrugged. 'I don't care, really. I don't have much planned for what'll happen "after the war". It seems too far away to me.'

'But… isn't there anything you want to be?' She seemed disapproving of my negativity.

'No.' I said shortly.

'Why not?' she inquired.

'I…never really thought about it.'

'You never really thought about what you wanted to be?'

'No. My Mother never spoke of ambitions or jobs, and Father only ever spoke of… well, serving the Dark Lord.' I was surprised at how little the mention of Death Eaters, or my parents, or my pureblood lifestyle seemed to affect Granger. 'Granger, how is it that you don't react to me talking about my parents?'

'Am I supposed to?'

'Well… they're Death Eaters. I would've thought you'd want to avoid the topic.'

'When you talk of your parents, you don't think of them Death Eaters, do you? You think of them as your parents.'

'Yes…?'

'Well, when you talk about your mother and father, I consider them your parents, and nothing more. And I think you do the same thing, only you don't realize.'

'Really?' Wow, she really could talk in riddles.

'Yes, because you never scoff whenever I mention Mum or Dad; you don't think of them as Muggles.' She got to her feet, walked around me and stood by the window. 'The night is so beautiful.'

I helped myself to the apple pie and replied without looking back. 'If you say so.'

'Malfoy?'

'Yes, Mudblood?'

'Can I ask you a question?'

'If you wish to.'

'Remember when I asked you who you ate with at home, and you said you used to eat with your mother? How come you don't eat with her anymore?'

I froze, the spoon of pie hanging in mid-air halfway to my mouth. 'She's sick,' I answered tersely.

'Oh,' she said. She walked back around and stood before me. 'I'm sorry.' I looked up at her against my better judgement and saw that she actually looked like she meant it.

'It's… alright, I guess.'

'No it isn't,' she said.

I scowled. 'What d'you mean?'

Her head was cocked slightly to the side. 'It's not alright. But you don't have to talk about it.' She sighed. 'I'm going to bed, Malfoy.'

'As you wish.'

She retrieved her bag from by the fireplace and was about to open the door, but I called out to her again.

'One last question, Granger.'

She turned back, looking slightly exasperated. 'Fine, ferret.'

'After all the things I've said to you over the past seven years… how are you still so pleasant with me?'

She smiled wryly. 'I'd be disappointed if you were anything different. It's just what I've learnt to expect from you, Malfoy.'

She didn't understand the significance of what she had said, but it brought back the rage that had pumped through my veins earlier that day. I felt my fist slam into the empty bowl of pie. She watched, horrified, as the bowl shattered and splintered glass flew in every direction.

'Expectations!' I roared. 'Expectations! That's all I ever hear anymore! Why doesn't anyone care about how I feel? Why can't everyone just leave me alone?'

She seemed torn between shock, terror, and alarm; she took one step forward, as though she wanted to help. 'Malfoy, I-'

'Didn't you hear me?' I bellowed. 'Just _leave me alone!_'

She cast one last anxious look in my direction before scurrying off. I heard her door slam, and silence reigned supreme. I got to my feet, and walked to the snow-white bathroom. I turned on the tap, and let the water soothe my cuts. My blood poured, shockingly, horrifyingly red, but no one cared… no one.

Once I realized that the water did nothing to help, I exited the bathroom and almost trod on a bowl left at the foot of my bedroom door. There was a note next to it. On it was written, in a neat script:

"_It's the essence of Murtlap. It should help with the bleeding._"

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe some people did care.

* * *

**Yes? No? Good? Bad? Just review! =)**


	8. Bewilderment

**A/N: Treat- double update! Enjoy! =)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. My fans would kill me for tardiness if I did! I missed my disclaimer for the last chapter. -_-  
**

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_It feels so right _

_To be here with you_

_ And now ... looking in your eyes _

_I feel in my heart_

_ The start of something new_

_ Now who'd of ever thought that_

_ We'd both be here tonight._

_-Start of Something New_, Vanessa Hudgens & Zac Pretty-Boy Efron.

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**Chapter Eight- Bewilderment****  
**

(Hermione Granger)

'…And that day, Luna was telling me about how, during Divination, she'd seen in the crystal ball, that Harry would get married to a redhead, and that kind of freaked me out, because there aren't too many redheads in Hogwarts, but then I figured it's Loony, she's not the most reliable source, you know what I mean?'

'Yeah…'

'…And you know what's really weird?'

'Hmm?' I slurred, not looking up from the diagram of the Erumpent horn I was copying as part of our DADA punishment assignment. It was just typical of Snape to give the whole of Gryffindor extra homework just because Harry had not been able to answer.

'It's that, even when I catch Harry staring at me, I don't feel a thing.'

'Hmm.'

'Imagine- after all the time I spent pining after him, now that I know he really likes me, and I actually stand a chance… I don't want him anymore. I mean, how weird is that? I don't feel a thing for him.' She sighed. 'I must really love Seamus… That must be it, right?'

'Mm-hmm,' I mumbled, shading in the intricate patterns.

'Hermione, are you even listening to me?' snapped Ginny.

I looked up. 'Of course I am, Gin. You just said you really love Harry.'

Ginny shook her head. 'You really have lost it, you know that?'

I frowned. 'What d'you mean? You just said you really love Harry.'

'No, I didn't. I said I really love _Seamus,' _she corrected me.

'Oh,' I said lamely, not knowing what else to say.

'Give that to me.' She snatched the parchment with my diagram and my "_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them"_ from me and, disregarding my stout protests, shoved them unceremoniously into my bag. 'It's Friday, Hermione! You have the weekend to do it! No more homework while you are with _me_, alright?'

I gave up trying to get my bag back from her and leaned back against the armchair. 'Okay,' I muttered dolefully.

'Good,' she said firmly. 'You multitask too much. It drives me insane sometimes.' She paused for a while, frowning. 'What's got you so preoccupied, honestly? You never listen to me anymore.'

'What d'you mean?' I asked, carefully avoiding her eyes as I pulled my hair out of its bun. I figured it would serve as good camouflage, now that I would have to spend the next half an hour or so lying to Ginny about why I had been avoiding her recently- because she was right. I never _did_ listen to her nowadays; and I had good reason not to, as well.

'I mean like now!' she grumbled, pulling my fiddling hands away from my hair. 'You won't even look at me anymore!'

'That's not true.' I mumbled, looking very carefully at her dark eyebrows, which had reached so high up her forehead in exasperation that they would soon disappear into her fiery hair.

'I miss my best friend, Mione.' She seemed quite sincere as she spoke.

I couldn't lie to myself; I knew it wasn't Ginny's fault that Harry was in love with her; it wasn't even Harry's fault. But for some reason, I felt like accusing Ginny; I felt like tearing her, limb from limb, for having something I craved so dearly, but not being able to acknowledge how great it was. I couldn't understand why she didn't love Harry; and yet, I couldn't understand why I did, when I knew I didn't stand a chance. When Harry had asked me, a week ago, in the library, whether he was good enough for me, a small candle of hope had involuntarily been lit within me, but over the past week, I had caught him, a minimum of twice a day, gazing avidly at Ginny, or laughing at her jokes, or blushing whenever Ginny patted him on the back, or ruffled his hair.

Somehow, I felt like Ginny was milking the situation to the maximum. As far as I knew, she had no genuine feelings for Harry, yet she was toying around with him; she was giving him false hope. I had convinced myself that she was not doing so on purpose; but then there was the flaunting. She was always gloating away about how many times a day she'd catch Harry staring at her, as _if_ I didn't already know. The only way I controlled my impulses and prevented myself from pouncing on her, and slashing her throat, and ripping out her goddamned perfect hair, was by reminding myself that she obviously wasn't doing it to annoy me. She wasn't actually showing off. She was just confiding in her best friend- it wasn't her fault her best friend was in love with Harry.

Then there was yesterday, when I'd told him… his reaction…I shuddered involuntarily.

And that's when I led myself to my downfall- I looked into her eyes. And her eyes spelled out to me that I was right- she wasn't doing any of this on purpose. She did miss me. Maybe it was time I repaid her sincerity with some of my own.

'Listen, Gin,' I began. 'Honestly speaking… you're right. I have been avoiding you. But I can reason it out!' I added hastily as she glared at me. 'It's just… I know you don't do it intentionally, but the thing is that… well, think about all of the things you've just said about Harry, okay? And then let me remind you: _I have feelings for Harry_. Now think: do you think all the things you just said are very pleasant for me to listen to?'

Her eyes widened in horror as realization hit her. 'Oh my God, Mione, I am so, so sorry. I… I didn't realize. I mean, I never thought of it that way, you know? Jesus, I'm such a selfish bitch! Oh my God, I'm so sorry!'

'It's okay, it's okay!' I tried to calm her down, but to no avail; I was sure she'd have a seizure. 'I know you didn't realize, forget it! This is why I didn't want to tell you! Now you're going to censor everything you tell me!'

She looked at me, with a rather uncharacteristically tender expression on her face. 'It'll be for your own good, you know.'

I shrugged. 'I'm not used to doing things for my own good, you know. I'm always too busy picking up after your lazy, worthless brother and your boyfriend.'

'He wishes,' she winked, before pulling an apologetic face.

'It's okay, Gin,' I said, laughing.

'You should tell him how you feel,' she said thoughtfully.

I bit down on my lower lip, wondering whether I should tell her. Somehow, it didn't seem right, even though I felt as though I owed her. 'You think so?'

She nodded. 'What's the worst that can happen?'

'Well… what if you realize, after Seamus leaves, that your crazy about Harry, but it's too late, because he loves me?' I asked, smiling playfully.

She punched me on the shoulder, winking. 'Not likely. I say go for it.'

'Something to think about, I guess.'

'Definitely. Now come here, you. I haven't hugged you in about a millennium.'

But as we embraced, a sudden, almost hostile, silence that fell around the Gryffindor Common Room caused us to break apart.

'You don't think that was because of us, do you?' Ginny whispered, giggling.

'I doubt it,' I replied, slightly concerned. 'Maybe I should go find ou-'

But my words faded out when I heard Ron speaking- well, barking was closer to the mark. 'What the fuck d'you think you're doing here?'

'Where I am, or what I do, is none of your business, Weasel,' replied a familiar voice coolly.

'He's right,' issued Harry's voice. 'Get the hell out of our Common Room. This isn't your place to be.'

'Quite the contrary, Potter; I can be wherever I please, and you have no right to eject me from anywhere.'

'How did you even get in here?' demanded Ron.

'Head Boy privileges, Weasel. I am allowed to go to any part of the Castle I want to, whenever I want to,' Malfoy drawled.

'Why d'you even want to be here?'

'Well, since you _insist_ on knowing… I'm looking for Granger.'

This seemed to infuriate Ron further. 'What the hell d'you want with her?'

'That is between us.'

'See what I mean, Gin?' I muttered and got to my feet, deciding that I'd let this go on for long enough. As I approached, I saw Harry and Ron's wands drawn, pointing at Malfoy, who was standing before them, arms crossed across his chest.

'I'm here, Malfoy, what d'you want?' I muttered, approaching them. Unconsciously, I felt my hands reach into my robes to pull out my wand, but winced as I realized it wasn't there- I'd left it in my bag.

'It's not something I want, Granger, more like something I have to do.'

'Get to the point, ferret,' I said, tapping my feet impatiently.

'Have you forgotten? We are supposed to meet the Prefects in less than an hour, Mudblood.' There was a general outraged outcry behind me as Ginny joined Harry and Ron; they looked like they were trying to decide which curse would best punish Malfoy, but I jumped in between them, facing my friends, arms outstretched. I was aware of the undivided attention of the entire Common Room on us, and the last thing I wanted was to create a scene.

'Don't,' I cautioned them.

'Why're you defending _him, _Mione, he just called you-' Ron began, but I cut across him.

'I don't care, Ron. I'm warning you, if you jinx the Head Boy in front of so many witnesses, even I can't do anything for you, so _put the wands away._' I cast a reproving look in their direction; Harry was the first to stuff his wand his wand out of sight, and Ginny and Ron begrudgingly followed suit.

I turned back to Malfoy, who raised a mocking eyebrow at the three standing behind me before continuing. 'You forgot that we'd agreed to meet half an hour ago to discuss our plans before we give them their orders.'

I smacked myself on the forehead and dashed to retrieve my bag. 'Let's go,' I said to Malfoy, heading towards the exit. I waved back Harry, Ron and Ginny, who were too busy glowering at Malfoy to notice. With a sigh, I followed Malfoy out of the portrait hole, which swung shut behind me, but not before I could hear whispers issue throughout the room.

* * *

'I think that went pretty well,' I said, flopping down on to one of the armchairs in the Heads' Common Room.

'I suppose. Did you see Weasley's face when I gave him his order?' He sniggered.

I rolled my eyes, turning to look at him where he stood by the window. 'Yes, I did. I _told_ you to leave Ron to me.'

He turned to face me, leaning back against the window, arms crossed against his chest. 'Where's the fun in that? Besides, you were bossing Pansy around like you owned her.'

'Well, it's not my fault she's a complete cow. Or you know what? Cows are actually smarter than her.' I got to my feet and walked up to open the window behind him.

'Jealous, Granger?'

'Of what, ferret? Her utter lack of self-respect, IQ or good looks?' I grinned wickedly.

He spared me a scowl before turning it swiftly into a smug smirk. 'No, I think you're just jealous that the person you just described gets someone like _me_, while you're stuck at Potter.'

I ignored the jibe about Harry. 'I agree that I don't know what _you_ see in her, but I'm definitely not jealous.'

'So you admit you think I'm too good for her?' he asked, a self-satisfied look pasted on his face.

I paused for a moment, trying to figure out how he had twisted my words to mean that- I didn't succeed. But as I looked up at him, and realized that he _was_ most definitely out of her league. Silhouetted against the darkness outside, his pale form was more than six feet; his white-blond hair, uncharacteristically messy- probably because of the cool breeze wafting in through the window, was falling in to his face; his features had a carved quality about them; his eyes were a colour I'd hardly seen on anyone else before- a dark, metallic, thunder-like sort of grey that was difficult to describe; the colour of his irises seemed to change colour with his mood- darker as he grew angry. But at the moment they seemed lighter, as if they were shining in this rare moment of mirth he shared with me.

I sighed, knowing I'd pay for being honest later. 'I suppose you could do better than her.'

If he was surprised at my acknowledgment, he did not show it. Instead, he flashed me the infamous insufferable smirk. 'It's alright, Granger. Women can't resist me. In fact, it's a Malfoy trait. Don't feel too bad for yourself.'

I rolled my eyes at him. 'Please, ferret, don't get ahead of yourself.'

I expected him to crack another conceited comment, but instead, after a moment's pause, he spoke, his voice curiously mellowed. 'You're too good for Potter as well.'

I felt my eyebrows travel up my forehead in astonishment. 'What did you just say?'

'Gone deaf, Granger?'

I grinned. 'I suppose that's not much coming from you, knowing what you think of Harry.'

'Oh, ease up on yourself, Granger. You're not half as bad as you seem.'

'Why, _thank you_, Malfoy,' I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He shrugged. 'Hey, don't take the compliment if you don't want to- not my problem.'

I sighed. 'I told Harry yesterday.'

He perked an eyebrow. 'Told him what?'

I could feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. Hopefully, Malfoy would think it was from the cold. 'About… you know, how I feel.'

'Really?' He seemed taken aback.

'You seem surprised.'

'I didn't think you had the pluck.'

'Honestly…' I took a deep breath. '…neither did I. But… I don't know, something just came over me, you know? Luna's been bugging me for ages to tell him, and Luna's usually pretty good at all this, she's sort of intuitive…' Malfoy snorted, and I spared him a frown before continuing. 'So I thought myself that, what if I _am_ losing my chance? So I just went ahead and told him.'

'Where?'

'Library,' I muttered, blushing deeper, anticipating his reaction, but none came.

'What did he say?' he asked.

'Well, he sort of smiled and said he was glad I'd told him. But then I told him how I didn't expect anything, because I knew he liked Ginny and that I was only telling him because I just had to, and that I didn't want to realize my mistake later by not telling him and that I hoped it wouldn't effect our friendship and…' I took a breath. '…I don't think I gave him much a chance to talk, really.'

Malfoy chuckled. 'I'm afraid to say I have to agree.'

I felt myself sag as I pressed my forehead against the cool glass- it was soothing. 'I'm so sure I made a fool of myself…' My breath fogged up the glass and, despite suppressing the urge to jump into the Black Lake and drown, I heard myself giggle.

'What's so funny?' Malfoy looked confused. I shook my head, biting down on my bottom lip to stop from bursting out laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Here I was, discussing my pathetic love life… with _Draco Malfoy_. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I felt like I could trust him with the things that I could not talk to anyone else about.

His behaviour varied so dramatically that sometimes I feared for his sanity; only a few days ago, he'd yelled at me for a reason I could barely understand, after having a pleasant enough conversation; I had left some essence of Murtlap out for him, but he hadn't even graced me with a thank you and we'd acted like that night hadn't even taken place.

And yet, here he stood again, listening as though he actually cared, but I couldn't understand why. Whenever I confided in him, I thought that maybe he would make fun of me, ridicule me, laugh at me, but at the end of the day, he wouldn't mean bad. I couldn't understand why I suddenly felt this way about someone I'd hated since I was eleven. Somehow, it seemed like he was as misunderstood as I was, and it seemed to forge a connection between us.

'It's Potter's loss,' he stated mechanically.

I looked up at him, astounded, and he seemed just as bewildered as I was.

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**Pleaaaaase, just leave a review. It'll make my day. =) I'll upload faster, pinky swear!**


	9. Confrontation

**A/N: There! I've kept my promise! Now make sure you review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; if I did, Ron wouldn't end up with Hermione. Ugh. -_-  
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Without the mask, where will you hide? _  
_Can't find yourself, lost in your lie _  
_I know the truth now _  
_I know who you are_

_-Everybody's Fool_, Evanescence_

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_**Chapter Nine- ****Confrontation  
**

(Draco Malfoy)

I couldn't understand this sudden connection I felt with Granger. I had known, and despised her, for a good six years of my life. But ever since the damned night that she'd left the Murtlap essence out for me, I'd felt like I owed her; I felt like, somewhere, under all the obvious differences, Granger and I had something in common, something maybe neither of us could recognize, even till now. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed to be hiding from the rest of the world just about as much as I was…

Whatever the cause, I felt a sudden urge to spill all my deepest, darkest secrets, my fears, to her… it was infuriating; I wasn't used to not being able to grasp something, and this was completely unfamiliar. I had never felt that I could tell a girl, a _female_, things I hadn't even been able to tell one of my own gender. Maybe this was because my one and only true friend was Blaise; but even with him, I could not always feel comfortable, which was why this was doubly irksome.

Or maybe it was because I'd inadvertently picked _this_ particular girl.

There was a knock on the portrait and both of us glanced back. 'I'll get it,' Granger exclaimed, looking slightly flustered, hurrying over to the entrance, and pushing it open. She stood back as Blaise climbed through.

'Blaise.' I glanced at my watch. 'You shouldn't be here,' I reproved.

He grinned lazily. 'And from when do I care about that, Draco?'

He shot a sideways glance at Granger, who was standing awkwardly by the portrait hole, shuffling her feet. She seemed to sense eyes on her, because she looked up and blushed. 'I'll just go…' she murmured, heading towards the dormitory door, but I heard myself call out to her.

'No, Granger, why don't you join us?'

Blaise frowned slightly, and I could tell from the way he looked at me that he didn't understand why I'd called her back much more than I did, but, thankfully, he did nothing more than shrug and plant himself in one of the armchairs.

Granger glanced hesitantly at Blaise, who was tapping my jukebox with his wand, trying to tune in a song he wanted, before saying, 'Well, if neither of you mind, then…'

'I'm sure Blaise won't mind,' I said rather forcefully. For some reason, I felt that introducing Blaise to Granger was a good idea.

Granger nodded slowly, but didn't move an inch. I sighed, moving to the fireplace and sitting down in the armchair next to Blaise. Slightly uncertain, Granger came and sat down opposite us, picked up a book and disappeared behind it. Blaise had meanwhile found the song he wanted and had leaned back, satisfied with himself.

'So how was your week?' he asked.

'Nothing special,' I said, shrugging.

'Anymore news from Lucius?'

I shook my head. 'But he did apparently contact Snape, who confronted me a few days ago, asking me why I didn't reply to the last letter. I lost my temper with him, and I don't regret it.'

Blaise nodded. 'So how is…' He shot an unsure look at Granger, but I nodded in encouragement. '…Narcissa?'

'The same, I'm afraid,' I said, trying to keep my voice level. In all honesty, I did not like talking about my mother's condition, but I felt that I owed it to Blaise.

'No improvement? Can she still speak?'

'She can, but it's slightly slurred,' I said shortly.

He seemed to note my lack of enthusiasm and changed the topic. 'Pansy's been looking for you all week. Apparently you don't give her the time of day any more.'

'Well, I wouldn't say _that. _I've just been busy… Planning Halloween and such.' I spared a glance at Granger, whose book had slid downwards, revealing her face. She met my eyes with a slight smile before looking down at her book again.

Blaise grinned impishly. 'Well, she's been whining to anyone she can get her claws on about how she's the only one who… what was it? Oh yes, "gives", in the relationship, and how you return none of it… it's quite amusing, if you aren't on the receiving end of it. What've you been doing to her, mate?'

I shrugged. 'I don't speak that language. Maybe Granger would know.'

She looked up from her book in surprise. 'Me? How would I know?'

I rolled my eyes. 'Spare me the theatrics, Granger. I think we all know you were listening.'

'Well, you asked me to stay,' she countered.

'Fine. What the hell does she mean?'

She smiled, putting the book down on her lap. 'Well, it's simple, really. She feels unappreciated. She thinks you don't feel the same way about her as she does about you, and in this case, she's probably right. If I'm not much mistaken, her next words would be, "Once he loses me, he'll understand how valuable I am"..?' She looked at Blaise for confirmation, who was visibly impressed.

'Something along those lines.'

She laughed, turning back to her book. 'Some girls are so predictable.'

'So what're your plans for her, Draco?' Blaise queried, a dark humour tainting his voice.

'Well, I have no plans to draw this relationship out anymore, that's for sure.'

'Don't think old Patricia Parkinson is going to be too happy about that.'

'You two sound like a pair of old women gossiping,' Granger piped in unexpectedly.

'Very funny, Granger,' Blaise said.

'And Malfoy…' She began, before shaking her head and returning to the novel.

I wasn't about to let her off that easy.

'What, Granger?'

'Nothing you'd like to hear,' she said, turning over the page of her book with utmost attention.

'Oh, but I do.'

'Fine, but remember, you asked for it.' She looked up, folding her hands on her lap. 'I think you won't break up with Parkinson.'

I felt my eyebrows travel up my forehead. 'And why would you think so?'

'Well…' she seemed a bit uncomfortable. 'I think you have a phobia. You're scared of being alone.'

My first thought was to kill the discussion off by reminding her that she must be an expert on the topic, since her love life was such a hit. But then I realized that saying so would seem defensive, and that would lead on to the fact that maybe I _was_ afraid of being alone…

'You think so?' I said, trying to keep my voice nonchalant, but neither she, nor Blaise, seemed to fall for it. Maybe I'd taken a moment too long in replying.

She nodded, returning to her book. 'You know, maybe she has a point…' Blaise began.

I cut him off. 'We'll see.' I continued to watch her; her eyes roved across the book at an impossible speed. I couldn't understand how she was taking in a word of what it said. There was an illustration on the cover, a young woman with an elaborate hairstyle, with the figure of a man in the background. The title read "_Pride and Prejudice_" and the author's name, written at the bottom, was "_Jane Austen_".

'What's that your reading, Granger?' Blaise asked casually.

'It's a Muggle novel,' she answered, carefully camouflaging the surprise in her voice.

'What's it about?' Blaise queried and as she replied, I felt as though I'd settled into a pattern. This is why I liked Blaise- he never asked too many questions and did not hold as many prejudices as most Slytherins. He was always ready to meet new people and accept them as they were. I had a feeling that, from the few things I knew about Granger, she needed companionship like him. They were quite engrossed in their discussion when there was another knock on the door. I crossed over and pushed it open to find Pansy. She bowled her way through the hole and threw herself into my arms with a wail of, 'Dra-a-a-a-aco!' She sobbed heavily into my shoulder, but I neither saw, nor felt, any tears soak through my robes.

Over her head, I saw Granger and Blaise watching from the couch with matching expressions of scepticism and mirth.

'Pansy, there are some things I need to discuss with you.'

I could see the fear and unease in Pansy's eyes as she looked up at me, but it did nothing to deter me. 'What is it, Draco?' she bleated.

'I think this relationship has gone on for long enough. I don't want to see you anymore.'

For a moment, she didn't react; it seemed that it hadn't registered yet. When she spoke again, the words coming out of her mouth were even more unexpected. 'Draco, sweetheart, you know Astoria Greengrass, don't you?'

I felt my eyebrows furrow in confusion. 'Distantly, I believe. Why?'

'I need her address. I am supposed to write to her. Mother asked me to talk to her about plans for my wedding. She and her mother own one of the leading fashion boutiques in France, you know.' She flashed a smile at me, and my confusion deepened. It seemed like she was in denial- it wasn't very unusual for my girlfriends to act this way when I broke up with them.

'Pansy, I'm not used to repeating myself, so _listen:_ I-am-breaking-up-with-you.' I dragged the words out and this time, and sensed the change in her. Her eyes widened with disbelief, and the tears that had been so significantly missing a few moments ago appeared.

'What- what d'you mean? Draco, you can't j-ust _end _it! This has been a-a plan! We have wanted this for years! We-'

I stomped my foot in frustration. 'Not we, Pansy, _you._ You and your mother have always wanted this. I have never been part of any such plans. They've always been hoisted on me, and I won't stand for it anymore. I'm making my own decisions, and this is where it starts.' I turned and strode back to the fireplace, taking my place next to Blaise.

After about ninety-seven seconds, Pansy broke out of her horrified trance and looked around the room, as if to see who was present. Her eyes rested on Granger and narrowed. 'What is _she_ doing here?'

Granger raised an eyebrow. 'I have much more right to be here than you do, Parkinson. This is _my _Common Room.'

'Why're you talking to me, you filthy Mudblood?' she cackled. 'Look at her, Draco, she dares to talk to _me_, as if she is my equal.'

Granger snorted. 'Take my word for it, Parkinson, I'm happy I'm not your "equal".' Her fingers sketched sarcastic quotation marks in the air. 'I have no desire to be like you in any way.'

Pansy closed in on her with a shriek and I marvelled at Granger's bravery. She didn't draw her wand; she didn't move an inch. 'You are just jealous.'

'Funny, that's the second time today I've heard that.' Granger's tone was undaunted as she shot a look at me. 'I don't feel the need to repeat myself to you.'

'See? You have no argument. You think you're so smart, little teacher's pet, but we'll see how far being Potter's little slut can get y-'

Within the blink of an eye, Pansy had backed away to the portrait. I couldn't understand how it had happened- that is, until I looked at Granger: she was suddenly on her feet; her hair seemed to be crackling with electricity; her chest was heaving as though she'd been running miles; a dark, haunting fire was burning in her eyes as she stalked Pansy, her index finger raised in accusation.

'Don't-you-_dare_,' she spat, her voice dangerously low. 'Don't you dare call _me_ a slut, you disgusting, hypocritical little _whore.' _Granger emphasized on the last word, and I felt a slight pang; there was no denying the truth, but Pansy _had _been my girlfriend, even if I'd harboured little genuine affection for her. 'Now get out of my Common Room before I do something that you're going to be very, _very _sorry for.'

Pansy looked outraged as she glanced at me, as if seeking support or protest, but I merely watched on, unconcerned. There was no way I'd get involved in a cat fight of this scale; it was much more entertaining to watch it pan out, especially if no wands were whipped out.

'You… you aren't even going to say anything? _She's throwing me out_!' Pansy's voice was becoming increasingly shrill with every syllable.

'There is nothing to say. She's right, it's her Common Room, she can throw anyone she wants out,' Blaise responded, shrugging.

The fight seemed to drain out of Pansy as she realized she had no back-up. She quailed under the towering fury of the fuming Gryffindor and quickly shuffled out of the portrait hole, banging it shut behind her.

Granger turned back to us; her expression was stony, jaw locked, eyes still burning with fury. She walked back to the fireplace, collected her things and, hoisting her bag on to her shoulder, addressed us. 'Goodnight,' she murmured quietly, an unnervingly genuine-looking smile plastered on her face.

With that, she spun on her ankle and disappeared into her quarters, slamming her door shut behind her.

'Women,' Blaise muttered. 'No matter what they say, they're all the same, and I'll never understand them.'

I shook my head absently, my eyes still trained on the Gryffindor banner that was just visible, hanging on the Head Girl's door.

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**Yes, it's not great- I rushed it, especially since I spend a good 5 hours a day watching the World Cup! Espana But don't let that stop you from leaving a review!**


	10. Just a Few Tussles

**A/N: Yes, okay, this took a while. I've been UBER busy! Cousin's wedding, school re-opening... excuses aren't going to make things any better. =P SO here you go, new chapter, read and review! ^^**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I wouldn't have to go to SCHOOL if I did. -_-  
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'_Cause they know, and so do I,_

_The high road is hard to find._

_A detour in your new life,_

_Tell all of your friends goodbye._

_-The High Road_, Broken Bells

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**Chapter Ten- Just a Few Tussles**

(Hermione Granger)

'…Seamus and I still can't decide on the long-distance relationship thing.' Ginny sighed.

'Well, from experience, long-distance is not smart,' I said.

'Experience…' Luna murmured distantly.

'Oh, Viktor. Of course. How could I forget?' Ginny smiled playfully at me, but suddenly waved at someone behind us. I turned to find Harry heading in our direction, but as soon as I smiled at him, his smile became slightly fixed and he diverted off behind a row of shelves.

'Harry feels a bit uncomfortable around you,' Luna stated. I sighed heavily. As if I needed reminding.

'Why would he?' Ginny's eyebrows furrowed, before her eyes widened in revelation. 'You don't think he knows, do you?'

I pressed my forehead on the leather cover of "_Advanced Potion-Making"_, hoping and praying that Luna, for once, would not say anything. High hopes, as they turned out.

'Yes, he does,' Luna informed her.

'How?'

'Hermione told him.'

'No, she didn't!' Ginny protested. 'Did you?' she added.

I looked up to find her face flushed almost as dark a red as her hair. 'I did.'

'When?' she demanded, reminding me uncannily of Ron.

'Sunday,' I said, resigning to my fate.

Typically, she exploded. I found that I wasn't really listening to what she was yelling, merely letting her fume until Madam Pince stalked over to warn her about shouting in the library, and I pounced on Ginny's momentary silence.

'Look, Gin, I can't help it. I hate how this is creating a barrier between the two of us as well, but there's nothing I can do about how I feel.'

'So you decided to tell Luna, and not me?'

'No, I didn't tell- wait, Luna, how _do_ you know?'

'Well, you see, I was advising Harry on how to get rid of his Wrackspurt infestation, when he suddenly spilled out how Hermione had confessed to him.' Luna shook her head disapprovingly. 'It just goes to show how bad his infestation is that he diverts off topic so easily.'

Ginny and I stared at Luna for approximately fifty-four seconds while she hummed to herself, gazing interestedly at the ceiling. Then a voice called out behind me.

'Hermione!' Blaise Zabini was heading towards our table.

'Hey, Blaise.' Ever since Sunday, when I'd told him, Harry had been carefully avoiding contact with me as much as possible, much to the confusion of Ron; so I had found myself left alone a lot, and had gotten to known Zabini a lot better, spending time with him whenever he came over to our Common Room, or joined me in the library. He was a nice enough person, very witty and a surprisingly good listener; he was as down-to-earth as a Slytherin could be, I suppose, but what surprised me most was his lack of partiality; not once had he called me Mudblood or brought up the question of my parentage.

I smiled. 'Won't you sit down?' I offered, despite being unsure of how this would be received by my Gryffindor friend.

I knew that Luna wouldn't care. She emphasized my belief by smiling vaguely at Blaise, holding out the purple onion root to him and saying, 'Yes, won't you help me ward off the Bimbles?'

Blaise looked as though he was trying very hard not to ask what a Bimble was; in all honesty, this was the first time I'd heard of one as well. Blaise eyed Ginny briefly before replying. 'No thanks, Hermione, I'll skip today. Besides, I think Draco needs you. He told me that if I saw you, I should remind you about some meeting at eight o clock.'

I felt my eyes widen as I glanced down at my watch, but thankfully, I still had fifteen minutes left. 'Thanks, Blaise.'

'Anytime, Hermione.' He strode away and, as soon as he disappeared behind a row of shelves, predictably, Ginny rounded on me.

'Hermione? Blaise? From when are you on first-name terms with Zabini?' she asked, eyebrows scrunched.

'Why?'

'How can you trust him, Mione? He's a Slytherin!'

'You don't know him.'

'And you do?'

'As much as I need to, yes,' I said airily, gathering my books into my bag and getting to my feet. 'I'm sorry, but I have to go oversee the Halloween decorations. See you later.' Luna waved absently, but Ginny merely glared as I retreated from the library and headed off to the Great Hall.

I met Ron at the top of the marble staircase, also on his way down.

'Are you okay?' he said, as we reached the bottom step.

'Me?' I asked, surprised. 'What could there be wrong with me?'

'Well, I don't know, but I met Ginny while I was coming down, and she seemed pretty angry. When I asked, she said I should ask you. Ring a bell?'

I sighed. 'It's nothing. We just had a… a disagreement. It's… a girl thing,' I muttered; even Ron couldn't miss the fact that I was avoiding answering.

'Fine... but is it the same reason as to why Harry's angry at you?'

'Harry's… angry at me?' I heard my voice falter.

'Isn't he?' Ron frowned. 'Why else wouldn't he talk to you?'

'Oh.' I felt relief spread through me. 'He didn't tell you why he's avoiding me?'

'No.' Ron seemed agitated. 'Won't you tell me?'

I hesitated for a moment. On one hand, there was the fact that I wasn't sure how Ron would take it; after all, what if it made things awkward for him as well? I didn't want to lose two of my best friends in one go. But on the other hand, hiding something this big from him might jeopardize our friendship in any case. I took a moment to arrange my thoughts and, taking a deep breath, I said, 'I told Harry that I like him.'

For a moment, Ron's face remained blank. 'Like… him? Like… _like _him?'

I nodded. 'Yes, I have feelings for him.'

'Oh,' he came up short. 'I…that's it?'

I nodded again.

'So what's the big deal in that? Why's he avoiding you?' Ron didn't seem to understand.

'I don't know. Maybe he feels awkward that I like him when he actually likes-' I stopped myself just on time, before I spilled Harry's secret to Ron.

But when Ron smiled, it seemed slightly sad. 'It's okay, Mione. I know Harry likes Ginny.'

I felt my eyes widen in shock. 'And… and what d'you think about that?'

'Well, actually, I didn't mind it at all. I know that Harry is one bloke who would be able to take care of her.' He seemed happy at that thought, but within seconds his face fell. 'Now I feel like a pile of shit. How hadn't I realized before? Of course you like Harry…' Ron shook his head absently and I took his hand, squeezing it gently.

'Hey, don't be too hard on yourself, Ron. It's okay. We all know you've been too preoccupied, what with Hannah leaving and all.'

Ron had had a crush on Hannah Abbott since the beginning of Sixth Year, but had done nothing about it because she had been dating Terry Boot of Ravenclaw. When Hannah had been pulled out of school at the end of Sixth Year because her mother had been found dead, Ron had been visibly affected.

Ron smiled forlornly at me as I pushed open the doors of the Great Hall, inside which stood assembled, in two long rows stretching across the whole length of the Hall, the huge pumpkins which had been picked from Hagrid's back garden. They had been carved by the house elves and were now waiting to be strung up.

I scanned the Hall and found the Head Boy standing at the end of the Slytherin table, a large net full of bats lying next to him. He was deeply absorbed in a piece of parchment.

He seemed to sense my approach and turned. 'Granger.' He checked his watch. 'Just on time. Blaise, I imagine?'

I nodded, smiling. 'I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm not usually one to forget my duties.'

He smirked. 'Of course not. Let's get started.' He raised his wand skywards and it let out a sound rather like a gunshot, attracting the attention of the entire Hall. 'Ladies first?' he suggested.

'Sure.' As the Prefects gathered, I turned to address them. 'As you can see, the pumpkins have arrived. Now, I would like each of you to plant a candle within it. Once we're done with that, the Head Boy and I will cast a charm on them. You will then take them to the parts of the castle which you have been allotted to decorate. I want no more charms, jinxes, hexes or curses cast on them, do I make myself clear?' I eyed the group of Slytherin Prefects hunched near the back suspiciously as the others nodded in assent.

Malfoy took over. 'Once you are done, you will report back to the Head's dorm, where the Head Girl and I will be waiting. Unless you do so, we will hunt you down and you will be given punishment for shirking Prefect responsibilities. Understood?'

Everyone nodded timidly, starting for the pumpkins, but a Fifth Year Slytherin raised his hand. 'Yes?' I asked, thinking he might actually have a question.

'So while we are busy working our asses off, you two are going to laze around, doing nothing but bossing us around?' he asked, flipping his dirty blonde hair impudently.

'What did you just say?' Before I could frame an answer, Malfoy had spoken; not only had he spoken, but his voice was a dangerous whisper. I estimated it could be heard from the Entrance Hall, such was the dead stillness of the room.

'You heard me. Why do we have to work while you sit around?' The boy seemed unfazed.

'Who do you think you are, asking me- _me, _that?' For a moment, I felt as though I could feel the authority and arrogance emanating from Malfoy. A well-built Slytherin Sixth Year hurriedly pulled the boy behind him and out of sight.

'I'm sorry about that, Draco,' piped up the Sixth Year Slytherin girl- what was her name? 'Simons doesn't know what he's saying, or who he is talking to. The stupid boy clearly has a great deal left to learn.' As far as my memory extended, her father was a Death Eater. 'Forgive him, Draco,' she purred…

Avery, wasn't it?

'It's alright, Rosaline,' Malfoy said coldly. 'Although it appears that these youngsters don't know their place nowadays.'

She tittered. 'It seems so. But do not think of it, Draco. It will be taken care of.'

Malfoy nodded curtly at her and turned to me as the huddle of Slytherins broke apart.

'What is it?' He raised an eyebrow at the expression on my face.

I suddenly realized that my lips were pressed tightly together in a mixture of disgust, awe and my attempts to refrain from laughing; an odd combination, I know, but I couldn't help myself.

'Nothing… I just never thought girls sucked up to you _that_ much.'

The unendurable smirk was back. 'Of course they do, Granger. How many times must I remind you that the Malfoy charm is irresistible?'

I rolled my eyes. 'It has the same effect on boys too, it seems.'

'And what makes you say that?' he queried, levitating the net of bats high above our heads.

I kept my wand trained on the bats as well, but I was watching him for my reaction as I spoke. 'Well, that Sixth Year Prefect- what's-his-name- Montgomery- he seemed to be sucking up to you as well. As soon as Simons spoke, he dragged him out of sight.'

'Well, it is true that they respect me more than most other Slytherins. Won't you cast the Charm?'

'Of course. _Obliviate._' The bats immediately lost their memory as well as their sense direction and stopped trying to escape. Hopefully, the charm was strong enough to last the next twenty-eight hours or so. 'So is the power you exert over other Slytherins because you're the Head Boy, or because you're a _Malfoy?_'

'Well, Malfoy, _obviously. _Those outside Slytherin fail to understand how we operate. There is a sort of… hierarchy, and the Malfoys are at the peak. Even when I was a First Year, Seventh Years would treat me as equals.'

I shook my head in disbelief and antipathy.

'What is it?' He waved his wand and the net disappeared; immediately, the bats were released, screeching and flapping about madly.

'_Silencio!'_ I cried, and they immediately fell silent. The Prefects still working in the Hall "ooh"-ed and "aah"-ed in wonder as Malfoy and I together forced the bats upwards and cast Shield Charms to make sure they would not be able to attack the students. 'No, it's just… how can it be that, just because you're born as a certain person, due to no credit of your own whatsoever, you're considered… well, it's all very unfair, you know?'

'Unfair that some people are just inherently better than other?' Malfoy suggested, smirking, but the edges of his lips suddenly turned down into a frown. 'Don't take it that way.'

I bit down on my lip. 'It's alright. Forget about it.' I looked away uncomfortably and noticed Demelza approaching us.

'Yes, Demelza?' I smiled at her in relief.

'Umm… we're done with planting the candles.'

'That's great. Go ahead. I'm right behind you.' Demelza smiled at me and headed back to the rest of the Prefects. 'Malfoy?'

He nodded and followed me; we cast an Animation Charm on the pumpkins so that they would cackle and howl and pull all sorts of faces at those who passed by. Once the Prefects had left to decorate the rest of the castle, Malfoy and I were left with a few dozen pumpkins that would be used in the Great Hall.

Silently, Malfoy and I each began working separately, using our wands to levitate the pumpkins. It was a tiring and repetitive process, and I soon found that I regretted the awkwardness between us.

To my greatest surprise, Malfoy broke the peace as we both worked on the teacher's table. 'You and Blaise seem a lot closer recently.'

'I suppose you could say that.'

'So do your Gryffindor friends know?'

'Know what?' I frowned at the ceiling, still not _quite_ comfortable enough to look at him.

'That you have Slytherin friends?'

'Who said anything about _friends? _In the plural, I mean.' I grinned; for once, I'd thought I'd caught Draco Malfoy off guard.

But the happy event evaded me once again. 'I _am_ offended, Granger. After all the things we've… _shared_, you still don't consider us friends?'

I perked my eyebrow at him. 'And you do?'

He shrugged. 'Why not? In all honesty, there are very few people with whom I feel comfortable, and I'm very, very surprised to admit that you are one of them.'

'Really, Malfoy? Because I can't really remember too many secrets you've shared with me…' I trailed off, anticipating his reaction.

He abandoned his wand, chucking it carelessly on top of the table and plonked himself down on the Headmaster's chair. 'Fine. Quid pro quo.'

'Now?' I asked, astonished. 'But we're supposed to be working!'

He waved his hand airily. 'A few minutes here or there won't kill anyone.'

I watched him, stunned, for a few moments longer, before lifting myself on to the teacher's table, trying to think of what to ask Malfoy. A thousand questions exploded in my mind at a time as I tried to think of how much I could exploit this position; after all, Malfoy lived in the core of the Death Eater movement- he had to know _something_ of importance. He'd already hinted at knowledge of Horcruxes- who knew what other secrets he was harbouring?

But for some reason, I did not feel like using this situation; I suddenly didn't _want _to take advantage of Malfoy in this way.

'Alright… I want you to tell me… what you really think of me.' The words spilling out of my mouth surprised me, but Malfoy merely smirked.

'In what sense?'

I tried to find an answer, but I couldn't. I could understand neither my question, nor the feelings behind it. 'I don't know… how about with regard to Harry?'

'Scarhead? Well, that's easy enough. I think you give him much more credit than he deserves. And you are _definitely_ wasting your time pining after someone like him, because you could do so much better.'

'Better than the _"Chosen One"_?' I asked sardonically. 'Really, Malfoy?'

'Being the _"Chosen One"_ isn't going to make him care about you, is it?'

'Are you suggesting Harry doesn't care about me?'

'Well, his behaviour over the past week or so seems to suggest so. How d'you know the bastard's not just using you for his own purposes, and can be easily rid of you as soon as he's done saving the world from the bad guys?'

I shook my head. 'That's not what he's like Malfoy. You don't know him. He doesn't just _use_ people.'

'Be that as it may, you asked me what I thought, and my judgement is that you deserve much better than him; you deserve someone who actually cares about you.'

I sighed. 'That's easy for you to say, Malfoy, you have girls fawning over you. Who am _I _ever going to get?'

Malfoy let out a short, harsh laugh. 'Please, Granger, d'you really think any of those girls are_ concerned_ about me? They care about my money, they care about my face, they care about my social status and they care about my _power._'

I looked up at him, startled. 'And that doesn't bother you?'

He shrugged. 'Not anymore. When I was younger, I thrived on the attention; but now, it doesn't really matter so much anymore.'

We resumed our work in silence once again, but this time it was more pleasant than it was prickly; soon, we were done with the decorations and trudged up to the Head's dorm, exhausted. The Common Room seemed like the epitome of tranquil after the cackling and leering pumpkins with their evil-looking cut-out faces. I sat down by the window, leaning my forehead against the cool glass; it was so soothing that I felt that I could drop off to sleep right there…

'You think you can cover for me, Granger?' Malfoy had come up behind me, causing me to jump and smack my head against the glass. 'I'm drained.'

'Su-u-ure,' I yawned, rubbing the sore spot on my forehead.

'Thanks.' He turned on his heel and disappeared into his room, and I sat wondering what actually made that boy tick.

* * *

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